


You're What I Bleed

by aintguiltyy



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Trauma, Codependency, Dark Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Gaslighting, Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Richie Tozier, Power Imbalance, Psychological Trauma, Repressed Memories, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Inexperience, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Stalking, Top Richie Tozier, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25781908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintguiltyy/pseuds/aintguiltyy
Summary: The skin that you call home holds a heart that quits, and knees that buckle in, and lungs that can't breathe when they're alone.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 45
Kudos: 164





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueeyedrichie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueeyedrichie/gifts).



> Title taken from the song "Nothing without you" by The Weeknd, which is a part of the playlist I've made for this work:  
> [ "You're What I Bleed" Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7kulnYpzeqA3sRxx7cCbFg?si=bRAW-gLAQ8aZy4YxqIaq3g)
> 
> [ Come chat with me on Tumblr :) ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aintguiltyy)
> 
> So, it's finally here!  
> I've been working on this fic for two months and can't wait to finally share it with you.
> 
> This idea got stuck in my head after reading OO by my dear bimmyshrug and this work is majorly inspired by it.  
> Bimmy, I'm so grateful that you agreed to beta this fic, I honestly don't know what it would've even looked like if it wasn't for you. I love and adore you. Thank you for everything you've done for this fandom, for always staying true to yourself and never taking any shit. 
> 
> Ally, this is my love letter to you.  
> There aren't words complex and beautiful enough to describe how much you mean to me.  
> I'm so thankful for having you in my life. Thank you for brainstorming with me and cheering me up when I was feeling down or didn't feel like writing. This work wouldn't exist without you.  
> I love you so, so much.
> 
> Additional warnings will be added for each chapter.  
> Please, hold in mind the fact that Richie is dark in this fic, so is the fic itself. If you're not okay with that, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave and mind your business, thanks.
> 
> **********************  
> TW/CW for this chapter:  
> coarse language, verbal harassment, bullying, homophobic language, a feminizing comment, reference/mention of self-harm, mentions of physical violence, making fun of a deceased person, mentions of attempted child molestation, a joke about pedophilia  
> **********************  
> Please let me know if I missed any!

Eddie has always believed that time changes people.

It’s the universal truth and he doesn’t have enough fingers to count how many changes have happened right before his eyes throughout his life. 

Many things provoke change- from a new circle of friends, to another asshole president- but the most fundamental changes may take months, years, and even decades.

If Eddie looked back five years, he wouldn’t have recognised himself. He was a sickly, scared beyond belief child who was afraid to even step a foot out of the house and he really, really wants to believe that something has changed since then, but that's not exactly true.

Eddie dealt with his fears with the help of certain people who gave him so much comfort and inner strength that sometimes he couldn't believe his own luck. 

Until he ran out of it.

Light, warm, late August breeze comes in through the open window, slightly undulating the curtains, and the clock on the bedside drawer shows 11 p.m. Eddie is in his bed, has been for a while, since his mother dismissed him after lecturing him over dinner about the same thing as usual before the school year starts.

_ You’ll have to focus on studying and studying only this year, Edward. Imagine how humiliating it would be if the Church found out that my son had been held back because he couldn’t pass his senior examinations. I hope you understand the responsibility this year has put on your shoulders. _

And damn, it’s still hard to believe that his senior year of high school is just about to begin, but the calendar on his wall, no matter how many times Eddie has looked at it, still shows today as the 31st of August. Tomorrow he will cross the threshold of the Derry High School for his final first day before leaving this place and never looking back.

Eddie allows himself to relax into the comfort that that thought brings, closing his eyes and letting the ruffling sound of leaves coming from the window slowly lull him to sleep, sinking into the warm, quiet comfort he so desperately needs right now before school starts.

Eddie has always had pretty high grades and has gotten along well with most of his teachers, who have always called him a hardworking, easy-to-teach student, but it won’t be enough now- not during senior year. School  _ connections _ won’t help him pass finals with straight A’s and get into a decent college.

And Eddie has always been a responsible person who understands the importance of studying, always turned his papers in on time, and even if he did miss classes, and each time he had a valid reason for his absence. It’s not like Eddie could spend his free time on anything else except for homework, sometimes even getting ahead of the coursework, which always paid off later. 

While his peers were going out, wasting their parents’ money on junk food and going to the movies, Eddie spent days away in his room or, rarely, outside in the town square with some book or his walkman. Sometimes his gaze lingered on careless children running around the playground, middle schoolers shrieking with laughter or teenagers smoking in the alleys, but Eddie always almost immediately turned his attention back to his book or the very entertaining tips of his shoes. A few years ago he had been one of these kids, spending hot summer days outside and going from the quarry to the ice cream shop and back, not caring about anything other than comics and his friends.

Until the summer of ‘89.

No matter how often Eddie tried to will those thoughts away, how hard he tried to suppress those memories, worn-out and blurry, they seek him out in his sleep almost every night. Even though he was getting better and better at repressing those memories with time, it still haunted him- the paralyzing fear of what had happened that summer when Eddie almost…

It’s all a blur, only separate pieces that make almost no sense together, but the clearest thing Eddie can see is seven friends tied together as a result of certain, often harmful circumstances, who were each other’s everything until they just… weren’t.

The first one to leave was Beverly.

Hardly a week had passed since the fateful day that had changed all of them forever when her aunt came and took Bev away to Portland. It all happened so fast; first, the fruitless investigation of her father’s death, then, looking for relatives that would take on a now orphan teenage girl, and Beverly barely had time to say goodbye before leaving Derry forever.

She promised to call, took all of their numbers, but it’s been four years since her aunt’s car drove out of town and Eddie hasn't heard from her, not even once.

Ben was the second.

His parents, having noticed the bandages on his stomach, constant fidgeting and nightmares, hearing the quiet, embarrassed murmurs about how their son was treated by his classmates, found a new house in Baltimore, where Ben’s father had been offered a job, in just one and a half months, and moved there by the end of summer so that Ben could transfer to a different school before the beginning of the school year.

Saying goodbye to him was even harder, and not a single call or a letter came since Ben waved at them from his father’s truck filled with boxes.

The third one to stop coming to the clubhouse was Mike.

They had always met up with him after school when Mike managed to get away from his grandfather, but after  _ that  _ day it became less and less frequent until he just stopped picking up the phone. They didn’t even get to say  _ goodbye  _ because Mike is still in town, Eddie still sees him from time to time, but never finds it in himself to call after him. He isn’t sure if he'll get a warm, sincere smile, or any reaction at all in return. 

The only ones whom he has stayed in touch with and exchanged a few words here and there in the past few years are Bill and Stan, but they can’t be considered friends, at least not like before. Perhaps their friendship wasn’t as strong as it seemed and couldn’t survive what had happened to them all. Perhaps another mutual trauma should’ve made them even closer, but instead it all turned to dust.

Perhaps if you’re broken inside and rely on someone who’s just as broken as you, or even more so, with a gap- a _ hole- _ in their chest, you either sink together, drag each other down until there’s nowhere to go, or fall apart like you never even knew each other at all.

Perhaps it was all a matter a time; another stroke of luck, a  _ godsend _ with a return address, and just as Eddie got used to it, let himself relax and let his guard down, allowed himself to enjoy the only good thing in his life, fate smirked at him and took it all away, tore it right from his heart until all he could do was bleed loneliness in his room with no chance of salvation.

It was hard in the beginning, for all of them. You can’t just continue living as though nothing has happened after something like that, and they made a promise to not talk about it, which made Eddie more than happy. They returned to something distantly close to a  _ normal  _ life, smiling at each other, and meeting in the clubhouse, and going to the movies as though everything truly was okay.

Eddie didn’t know how everyone else was feeling, what they were going through, didn’t know if they woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, fighting for every breath, but it had only become worse with time, no matter how many times he tried to quiet the roar fighting to break free from his chest. At least not when he was alone.

And then the Losers fell apart.

Nightmares haunted him nearly every night, nightmares that made Eddie want to rip off his sizzling skin and tear out his hair just to soothe the blinding pain, and fuck, a few times Eddie came so close to it, throat constricting with stifling oxygen from just the thought that he was all alone, and after getting to experience what it’s like to have friends, coping with loneliness and the quiet void that was left in his chest in the shape of six people was almost impossible.

In about a year Eddie just… got used to it. Accepted his fate, maybe. Those wretched thoughts and repressed emotions were threatening to consume him and drag him down until there was nothing left of him, and Eddie just couldn’t do it anymore. He had to choose between letting go and sinking into  _ nothing _ after almost not making it out of the depths of Hell.

And wouldn’t it be funny? Escaped from the living nightmare, but not from himself.

That’s why Eddie threw himself into the things that were left — school, books, music, rare movie nights and dinners with his mother, just like today.

He didn’t have much time to spend by himself this summer, even though he was trying his best to get rid of his mother’s constant presence with all the passive-aggressiveness he could master. Summer break had hardly started when Sonia declared that they were going to spend the next two and a half months with her sister in Melbourne, and Eddie simply nodded and started packing.

There was no use in arguing and no valid arguments either, because what else could he spend the summer on? It’s not like his mother would allow Eddie to stay home all on his own.  _ You can’t do without me, Eddie bear. _

She was pretty much right. He doesn’t think he could spend so much time alone with himself.

This summer turned out better than the previous three — his aunt seemed to read Eddie’s mind and always distracted and softened Sonia whenever he wanted to go to the local beach or explore downtown. Of course, in that case Eddie was forced to put on at least three layers of sunscreen that was almost instantly washed away by the crystal clear ocean which he grew to love after his aunt convinced Sonia that saltwater wasn’t harmful in any way. That didn’t stop her from muttering under her breath while watching him leave the house and blaming sunscreen companies for the insufficiency of their useless products — Eddie’s skin, now covered in bronze freckles, was glowing with warm gold more and more with every passing summer day.

Melbourne has had a better impact on him that Eddie could’ve imagined. His aunt sometimes took him to the mall and even allowed to eat whatever he wanted when Sonia wasn’t looking, and Eddie used it as an opportunity to gain at least some kind of freedom.

However, when he came back to Derry, all that freedom flew out of the window like it was never even there.

Eddie has always been one of those people who arranged their outfits before the first day of school, college or work. He likes thinking such things through, likes having this ounce of control over his life even if they were just clothes, and now after finally getting a whiff of the long-forgotten freedom Eddie wants control even more.

Tomorrow surely won’t turn out to be as important as it seems right now, with excitement and anxiety fluttering like butterflies in his stomach. It’s so strange that summer can erase all the bad memories of what happens in school on a daily basis and just how much you dislike, even  _ hate  _ it, but now all Eddie wants is to finally find some peace and freedom from his mother for at least seven hours a day.

It’s a stupid thought, because there surely won’t be any peace or freedom in the senior year of high school, and Eddie is scared of what’s ahead of him; however, he can hardly wait for the beginning of a new chapter that he’s anticipated since the first coming-of-age movie he ever watched.

The possibility of failing his finals is the worst-case scenario, because then Eddie will be stuck here for another year and  _ it will be so humiliating, Edward. _

Tomorrow will be the first step of getting out of here and leaving as many miles between him and Derry as possible, the place that has broken him forever, left him with trauma and no way of coping with it, not if you don’t want to be labeled as  _ mad. _

No one will ever believe that at the age of thirteen you…

Hiding his face in a pillow and diving under the covers, Eddie shuts his eyes and sighs one last time, breaking the wings of the unwanted butterflies in his stomach and pleading his body to go to sleep. Being late on the first day of school surely won’t be a good start.

***

He understands that there was absolutely nothing to miss the second he steps his foot in the school.

Of course, it is refreshing to finally get out of the house and be surrounded by familiar faces, but with that also come the memories, as does the murmuring in the hallways, sideway looks and not so kind words thrown so carelessly as though they mean nothing.

The same locker, which he scrubbed more times than he can count in freshman year to get rid of black sharpie, with the same combination where Eddie hurriedly leaves his textbooks before going to class.

Almost nothing has changed, but the mere thought that it’s the last year, the last time he ever had to come back here, somehow changes everything.

Eddie only has five classes today, but they are all pretty much the same — teachers telling them about how hard they’ll have to work in senior year and discussing finals and their programs for this semester. He writes every little thing down and is already planning on doing homework (who even gives homework on the first day?) when he comes home.

The cafeteria, probably his least favorite place in the whole school, is already filled to the brim. It was never a problem to find a vacant seat somewhere near the corner, but when Eddie takes his lunch and scans the room for empty seats, he finds nothing — most of the tables are overflowing with people loudly talking to each other and filling the cafeteria with laugher too sincere and bright for the first day back at school.

He has no desire to talk to anyone just yet, but his stomach is practically rumbling and Eddie really doesn't want to miss lunch. So, he sighs and chooses a more-or-less peaceful looking, half-full table and heads to it.

“Hey, Kaspbrak!”

A familiar voice calls out to him from the table nearby and Eddie knows that playing dumb will make everything worse, so he heavily sighs before turning around.

Tyler is sitting surrounded by his  _ gang  _ with that signature smirk on that annoying face and Eddie almost goes rigid from the cruel amusement tingling in the eyes that are trailing him from head to toe. It feels as though the whole school is looking at them right now, but in reality anyone hardly cares, not sparing a second glance in the direction of one of the biggest assholes who prefers to be called a  _ golden boy _ looking for some fun on this boring day.

It’s none of their business as long as no one bothers them.

It’s not like this hasn't happened before and not like anyone can put an end to it.

Tyler, as it seems, doesn't even care that Eddie hasn't responded, so he leans in closely on the table and continues looking at him like he’s at the premiere of a movie he’s been dying to see for eternity. Or, more like three months of summer.

“Have you gone deaf over the summer?” comes the second voice, now James’, from the same group.

Eddie’s more than sure that it’s James who was responsible for the writings all over his locker a few years back and most of the rumors that spread through the school within hours whenever Eddie did something that upset him  _ or _ did nothing at all. There just was no escape from it.

“Don’t be mean to the boy, James. He doesn’t have a place to sit,” Tyler smirks, and fuck, Eddie already knows what's gonna happen next from the confident yet harsh glint in his eyes. “I've got a place for you right here.”

Tyler pats his knee and the laughter that erupts after his words finally brings Eddie out of it.

“Thanks, but I’m gonna have to pass,” he grits through clenched teeth and makes to turn around and go to that half-taken table he'd noticed earlier, but doesn’t manage to even make a single step before someone stands in his way.

“Fuck, this summer really did you good. I thought there was no way you could get any prettier, but here we are,” James says, looking him over so shamelessly that Eddie’s skin goes uncomfortably tight and tingly. “Did you buy these shorts in the girls’ section? Although I can’t say I mind, they make your ass look like a piece of cake.”

These words hit him so hard for a moment Eddie forgets how to breathe, feeling his face grow pink with both anger and humiliation, like he hasn’t gotten used to it with years and years of disgusting catcalling of his  _ everything _ on a daily basis, but right now he feels so gross and wants to be anywhere but here, under James’ tacky gaze.

His cheeks redden with every passing second of stunned silence and his arms shake where they're holding the tray with the need to shove the hem of his shorts as low as possible to cover as much skin as he can, just to stop James from  _ gawking  _ at him like that.

His company’s shrieks of barely covered up laughter drown in the sound of a rapid heartbeat in Eddie’s ears and he tenses, locks up and shrinks so deeply that he almost drops his tray when he feels the hand on his shoulder.

“Eddie, are you alright?” Bill asks, stopping right next to him with a worried yet determined expression on his face, looking from Eddie to James and back. “Want to sit with us?”

Finally exhaling in what feels like the last few minutes, Eddie abruptly nods and turns to Bill, not sparing James another glance, knowing that he's angry at Bill's interruption. 

“See you around, cutie,” James says at last before returning to his table and Eddie tenses even more, the reassuring hand on his shoulder not helping even a little.

_ Cutie. _

His insides go strangely cold at the pet name and he doesn't want to think about what memories it is tied to.

Only he feels the eyes that he hasn't felt in years watching him among all of the others, but maybe it's just a feeling.

Stan, who’s already waiting for them at the table, gives Eddie a warm, sympathetic smile when they finally sit down next to him, but Eddie really doesn't feel like discussing what’s just happened, especially listening to Bill’s resentment.

The only thing he wants is to ask Bill why he invited him to sit with them and not pass by like he’d been doing these past years, why the hell did Bill even lend him a hand after what’s happened between them? But he manages to stop the words that are already gathered on the tip of his tongue and lowers his gaze to his plate.

Eddie’s thankful, really, because the last thing he wanted is to start a fight right in the middle of the cafeteria on the first day of school. What would his mother say if she found out that he got into an argument, especially in senior year, when  _ all of your attention should be focused on studying and not preposterous intrigues, Eddiekins, _ just like she told him this morning at breakfast before Eddie ran off to school.

Like he's responsible for the fact that some jerks can't seem to leave him alone, calling Eddie names, and spreading nasty rumors, and carelessly ruining his days one after another.

Eddie won’t let anyone or anything ruin this day, this week, this month, or, most importantly, this year.

Stan and Bill, who appear to have understood that it's better not to mention what’s just happened, are talking about something school-related and, to be specific, Bill’s possible scholarship. It’s no secret that this year one member of the school's football team will be offered a state-financed place in a good college, and Bill is at the top of that list with his great academic record and skills on the field, so he more than likely will be the lucky one.

Once or twice Eddie participates in the conversation, giving Stan, who offers him to join some kind of examination preparation course, a tight, brief smile and shaking his head, saying he already has everything covered.

_ You won't be studying with a tutor, Edward. Did you know that two years ago Monica Corcorans’ son’s tutor tried to molest him? I was horrified when she told me. I’m not letting those filthy people anywhere near you. _

Eddie would’ve laughed at her, but she could've homeschooled and locked him at home for all he knows.  _ Away from their filthy hands, Eddie bear. _

Maybe it’s not a good idea to tell her about how exactly her son is treated at school.

It has gotten worse and worse over the years — Eddie was growing and so did the attention from people that didn't think he was worth a second glance before, including assholes like Tyler and James. And Eddie would have been lying if he said that he didn't enjoy it, at least a bit. Before, school bullies bothered him just because he was an easy target, but with the years, words thrown at him changed from  _ you're such a fucking loser, Kaspbrak _ to  _ how much to have those lips wrapped around me? _

Eddie is not blind. Within the past few years, especially this summer, he’s begun paying more attention to how he looks with the help of his aunt who, for the whole summer, allowed Eddie to dress and act the way he wanted and not Sonia.

There’s nothing more to him wearing pastel colors made out of soft, tender materials while all his peers wear flashy shirts and dark colors. There's nothing more to him looking after his appearance instead of letting his health rot away with youth, choosing actually efficient products instead of the legendary 3-in-1 shampoo and always carrying around a lip balm.

Maybe that's why more and more rumors appear every year and are being spread by the bullies’ girlfriends who see them looking Eddie over in hallways, snarling in his face, but behind his back, Eddie’s sure, thinking about the things they should be imagining their girlfriends doing instead of him.

He doesn't need this, doesn’t need this  _ filth, _ but does nothing to stop it. Moreover, sometimes he puts in too much effort for a teenage boy in a town like Derry. It’s his only way of self-expression outside of home where  _ rules  _ exist, because Eddie has no one to spill everything that’s gathered on his chest onto, no one to whisper all his secrets to in the dark of night.

Not since he let the only good thing in his life go and was left with almost nothing.

Stan and Bill finish their lunch, but Eddie only pokes his food around the plate and still can't get rid of the feeling of those eyes burning into him, leaving marks on his skin.

There's this annoying  _ buzz _ in the back of his head, the tacky itch of unwavering attention, and Eddie tears his blank gaze away from the plate and looks around, trying to understand what is causing the agonizing tightness of his skin.

Tyler and James are sitting with their backs turned to him, discussing something with loud voices and constantly talking over each other while the other people at their table hang onto every word, and if it's not them who’ve been staring at him for what feels like minutes, then…

Eddie’s attention is caught by movement on the other side of the cafeteria, and his whole body goes rigidly cold when his eyes meet with the person sitting at that table. 

Next to him, Bill starts packing and clears his throat to get frozen Eddie to look at him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks once again while Stan brings their trays back. 

Eddie’s only answer is a distracted nod, because he can’t look away from the blue eyes looking right back at him, but the next moment they tear away and suddenly Eddie can breathe again, like he finally reached the surface after almost drowning in piercing cold.

At the furthest table, Richie stands up and, putting his backpack on his shoulder, heads for the exit.

Stan, who’s returned to their table, seems to say goodbye, but Eddie isn’t paying attention, still looking after the figure which finally disappears through the doors, and then looks down at his still full yet messy plate.

“Well, we’re gonna head out. See you later, Eddie,” Bill says at last, giving him a tight smile before exchanging looks with Stan and also heading for the exit.

His insides cramp like someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water right over his head, and moments later Eddie forcefully shakes his head like he’s trying to throw the sticky gaze that seems to have been boring right into him mere seconds ago off his tingly skin.

No, it couldn’t be true. They were sitting on the opposite sides of the room and Eddie got so into himself that his conscience convinced itself that he’d seen something that wasn’t even there.

Richie couldn’t have been looking at him, couldn’t have been watching Eddie this entire time, not after…

“See you later,” Eddie whispers to no one.

***

Locking the front door, he leans back against it and sighs heavily. The smell of pastry comes from the kitchen and his stomach growls treacherously, reminding him that he has hardly eaten anything since this morning and now it’s almost seven in the evening.

Echoing footsteps are heard across the hallway and Eddie closes his eyes, savoring the last moments of silence.

“Where have you been all this time?” Sonia’s voice is heard, and when Eddie finally opens his eyes, he notices a displeased, frowning expression on her face. “Lessons were supposed to end by two, and now it's half past six.”

“Mom, there was a huge queue for textbooks in the library and I went to the coach to discuss my exemption from PE, “ he explains.

His mom purses her lips.

“Edward, you know that I worry about you. You could have told me beforehand, and did you have your medical report with you at all? All your medical documents are with me.”

Eddie takes off his shoes and, bowing his head away from the annoying, disapproving gaze, rolls his eyes tiredly.

“Nothing happened to me, mom. I was told to bring it to the first lesson so everything’s fine.”

Sonia is seemingly satisfied with his answer, but still shakes her head.

“You should have warned me.”

And Eddie wants to snap so badly, to say that he is not a little helpless boy who’s unable to stand up for himself, that it isn’t even dark outside yet and it is highly unlikely that something could have happened to him in broad daylight, but he knows that it’s pointless and will only aggravate the situation and provoke his mother, who seems to have sort of calmed down.

Following her to the kitchen, Eddie leaves his backpack in the doorway and heads to the toilet to wash his hands while Sonia serves dinner. Soon they sit down at the table and he tries not to swoop in on food in order not to show his hunger. Eddie’s is definitely not in the mood to discuss why he couldn’t eat at lunch.

He doesn't really want to know what ridiculous measures his mom will take to make people like James go away forever, and Eddie's gaze falls on his shorts.

_ They make your ass look like a piece of cake. _

That nasty feeling begins to sizzle under his skin again, and he pulls his legs under the chair and turns his attention back to the food while Sonia talks about how her workday went and how this Sunday after church they were invited to dinner at one of her friends' houses.

Eddie has no desire to go to church or  _ her friend’s, _ but he bites his tongue and silently eats his dinner.

“How was your first day?” Sonia changes the topic, putting more salad on her plate. “Apart from disappearing for four hours, of course.”

He physically has to keep himself from rolling his eyes.

”Sorry, mom. I truly didn't mean to scare you,“ Eddie replies. She just nods and gestures to continue. ”Apart from that, the day went well. Nothing unusual, the “you’re seniors now” speech in each class, then at lunch I met with Bill and St...“

“With Bill?” Sonia asks with sudden interest, putting down the fork, and he nods, noticing out of the corner of his eye how a smile appears on her lips. “I haven't heard of him for so long. What a joy that you're talking again!”

_ We’re not talking, _ Eddie wants to object.  _ If you were actually listening to me, you would have let me tell you that Stan was there, too, and we barely said a word to each other before parting, as always. _

However, Sonia has almost never cared for the fact that he has something to say. 

“I’ve always liked him, and you were so close. What a pity that Georgie...“ For a moment she stays silent but then coughs and shakes her head. ”Let’s not talk about sad things in the past. What matters most is that everything’s alright now.”

Holding back a huff, Eddie takes a sip of water and lowers his gaze to the pattern on the tablecloth, but it seems that Sonia hasn’t finished yet. 

“Why don’t you invite him over, like old times? He has always been so well-mannered, unlike that... What’s his name again?” his mother asks dismissively as if she really doesn’t know the answer, and Eddie knows it's all a show.

“Richie, mom,” Eddie mutters, and just like that all his appetite is suddenly gone without a trace.

“Exactly. The one I definitely don’t miss is him,” Sonia huffs, picking up the fork again. “You still aren’t friends, are you? He doesn’t bother you, does he?

“Mom, please, let’s not…” Eddie starts in an attempt to end the conversation before it gets serious, like  _ before _ .

“I just worry about you, Eddie,” Sonia continues, not paying attention to his words. “He was a bad influence on you and you know it. Something about him didn’t sit right with me from the beginning and I don’t want my son to spend time in such company, at least not  _ again _ .”

“Everything was delicious, mom, “ Eddie cuts off sharply, rising from his seat with his plate only half empty in his hands. “Thank you for dinner, I’m gonna do my homework and go to bed."

Sonia is visibly unsatisfied with the interrupted conversation and the fact that he didn’t finish his meal, but she doesn’t object and turns her attention to the reality show on TV.

“Do the dishes and you may go,” she says and gives him her plate and glasses. “Just don’t stay up late and don’t forget to take your medicine before bed.”

Nodding, Eddie collects all the dirty dishes, goes to the sink and turns the water on.

As he enters his room, the door clicking behind his back finally relieves the tension which has been chaining his body since this morning, and Eddie sighs and heads to the bathroom. Homework can wait, he really doesn’t feel like doing anything about his studies right now. 

A quick cold shower due to the stuffiness outside, the pills flushed down the toilet, brushing of teeth and pajamas bought for him by his auntie, and Eddie falls on the bed. The window is slightly opened, like every other night, which Sonia forbids, especially after a shower, and taking into account the fact that there is no lock on the door, this can be a problem, but Eddie will sooner listen to the one-hour lecture about the dangers of catching a cold rather than suffocate in his sleep.

Putting the blanket away, he makes himself comfortable on the soft sheets and finally closes his eyes, trying to fall asleep as soon as possible, because he knows himself too well.

_ I've got a place for you right here. _

Hiding his face in his hands, Eddie shamefully comes to terms with the fact that his mind obviously has different plans.

Back in May he might have not thought twice about what happened today in the cafeteria, but now, after three months of freedom from those filthy, disgusting words, they drag him in like a vice, leaving no choice but to drown in them.  How shamelessly James was staring at him, how his company was laughing at his words, how desperately Eddie wanted to hide, lock himself away from all of it... And then Bill appeared next to him. Eddie twitched not because he wasn't expecting his touch, but because of his voice, which he hadn’t heard for too long, at least not so _ concerned. _

After the Losers fell apart, one by one, Eddie stayed in touch with Bill and Stan the longest until he simply could no longer pretend that everything was okay.

Nothing was okay, not with them, not with what happened, not with what they had become.

And Richie...

Once again, his cold, undefinable gaze comes up before Eddie’s eyes, and he could have sworn that it was all just his imagination, but couldn’t have confused those eyes with anyone else.

That summer inevitably changed all of them, but it hit Richie the hardest — something in him  _ broke, _ cracked open, revealing a person- no, a  _ phantom _ of his old self dotted with quiet cruelty, simmering just beneath the surface of those now icy, cold blue eyes.

It was not so obvious at first, but with every passing day Eddie started noticing how Richie began to close in himself, withdraw from everything and everyone in his life and react quicker and more aggressively to things that didn’t seem good enough for him. His jokes became crueler. He always did not know how to keep his mouth shut, but now his crudeness began to cross all boundaries.

Eddie was looking for an excuse for everything he said or did, trying to find a suitable explanation, not for the rest of the Losers, clearly less sympathetic to Richie, too busy fighting their own demons in struggling quiet, but for himself.

He didn’t want to push, didn’t want to start a conflict, which, it seemed, was exactly what Richie was looking for — at least from everyone else, and Eddie especially didn’t want to piss Richie off with his attempts to reason with him, because along with irritation, cruelty began to burn in his eyes every time someone dared to talk back to him. Eddie did not want to get on his bad side where everyone seemed to be lately and began to choose his words carefully when he was with Richie, something he had never felt the need to do before.

Eddie remembers the day when he first felt the icy chills from the cold in the once familiar eyes despite his attempts to suppress those memories. Remembers every word and how stunned he was, but still hadn't stopped looking for fucking excuses.

The two of them were returning from the clubhouse and Richie volunteered to walk him home, joking that boys like Eddie should not be on the streets alone late at night.

“I really doubt that your presence will save me if someone does want to attack me,” Eddie replied, rolling his eyes, realizing that there was no point in arguing and that Richie would've followed him anyway if he wanted to.

“I really doubt that I wouldn't be able to deal with some decrepit pedophile after I smacked that fucking clown right in the face, Eds,” Richie grinned back, putting his hands in his pockets and adjusting his step.

Only Eddie froze in place after his words, feeling his breath get stuck in his throat.

“Rich, don't.”

“Don’t what, Eddie my love? Be more precise,” Richie retorted, also stopping and turning to him with a raised eyebrow and a relaxed smile on his lips.

Hugging himself around the waist, whether from a sudden gust of cool evening wind, or the strange, inexplicable gleam in Richie’s eyes, Eddie shivered and looked down at his feet.

“You know what I’m talking about."

Richie's sneakers came to a stop next to him after a couple of long moments, and Eddie finally looked up when he felt the breath on his face. He barely suppressed the urge to back away from the way Richie was looking at him.

“Oh, you mean don’t talk about our dear old Penny?” he asked with feigned innocence. “ _ Why not _ _?_ Saying the motherfucker’s name certainly won’t bring him back to life."

When Eddie didn’t answer right away, Richie got even closer and his skin involuntary broke out in goosebumps.

“You can play clueless with Bill and Stan all you want, but don’t fucking tell me what to do. Deal?” he said in a flat, calm voice that did not match his words and gaze at all.

Eddie was so taken aback by his words, the _ tone _ of his voice, which he had already heard, but never felt on himself, that he came to his senses and continued his hasty way to the house only after Richie had already walked to the end of the street and called out to him, saying to hurry up so as not to upset Mrs. K.

And he still continued turning a blind eye after that, convincing himself that Richie was fine and all of this was  _ temporary _ , until the end came. Eddie still remembers that day like the back of his hand, remembers every single word and how he met Richie’s eyes for the last time and he saw  _ nothing _ in them. Mike was still answering their calls back then, Ben hadn’t transferred to a different school yet and Beverly had just left, and they were meeting in the clubhouse like being together could save them from the nightmares hot on their heels.

Bev leaving was the turning point, because her and Richie had always been like a brother and sister, and no matter how close Eddie and Richie had been and how much time they had spent together, him and Beverly always had something Eddie could never quite reach.

She tied them together like an invisible string of fearless love, caring touches and bright laughter, and after she had left it all fell apart.

Bill was having a really tough time trying to overcome losing Georgie, they all saw and understood it, but tried to mask it up with forced smiles like everything was okay, like they all could move past everything that had happened, overcome it like another one of life’s challenges, but not everyone agreed with him. Eddie tried following Bill’s example, tried to leave everything behind and never look back, distance himself and keep the promise not to talk about it, but it has only gotten worse with time. Soon he couldn't stand the sight of Stan’s forced smile, Bill’s fake confidence, Ben’s passive distress, Mike’s silent acceptance and what happened to Richie.

While they were all choking on their fears, trying to outrun the never stopping nightmares, quietly licking their oozing wounds, Richie snapped at every kind word, at every smile sent his way and soon Mike and Stan’s attempts to get him to calm down didn’t work anymore. 

Richie stopped caring about their opinion, stopped listening and let himself loose, continued to push, push,  _ push _ like he was trying to see just how far he could get, how much they would let him get away with.

Eddie didn't know this Richie, indifferent, harsh and  _ quiet, _ and that scared him the most. Before Richie just couldn’t shut his mouth, couldn't hold back all the blunt words spilling from the tip of his tongue, but now he became so guarded, and it should have been a relief, but turned out being even more confusing and unsettling than before. 

This Richie was a different person with the same facade, which only the eyes were giving out, and he was always like an open book, warm and welcoming pages filled with light jokes and bright smiles, but that summer you could only say that Eddie forgot how to read.

He understood that all of them were going through a difficult time and that they all had different ways of coping and coming to terms with what was left of their lives, and for some time his quiet pleas to stop and desperate eyes helped to calm Richie’s sudden bursts of cold irritation.

Eddie kept telling to himself and the others while Richie wasn't around that it was his way of trying to deal with the trauma, but believed in it less and less every time Richie did not hesitate to use force, shoving Mike with his shoulder, and snorted and rolled his eyes in response to any word from Bill about how he needs to cut it.

Richie had always been like an  _ anchor _ for Eddie, and he unknowingly reached for him for support in an attempt to hide from the thoughts trying to burst out of his head, tried to make casual conversation, pull a light-hearted joke out of him and return a sincere, just a tiny bit crooked smile to Richie's lips, but in vain.  And Richie used to act differently around him, apart from that walk home and a few harsh words, before the last straw was drawn.

The last time they had seen Mike was about a week ago, and he had just stopped answering calls, and when Stan voiced his thoughts about this, Richie just grinned, for the first time at least somehow showing that he was participating in the conversation since coming down the dilapidated stairs and lounging in the hammock, where he dragged Eddie a couple of minutes ago, leaving him no choice.

It's not like Eddie could say no.

"We have to visit him. What if something happened?” Stan asked worriedly, looking at the three of them.

Richie only huffed, rolling his eyes.

“He finally got tired of playing happy family, that’s what happened. Good for him. Who’s going to be next?”

“Richie, don’t start,” Stan asked tiredly, obviously not in the mood to deal with Richie.

Like it could help.

“Haven't you noticed the pattern? First Bev left, then Ben and now Mike, so I'm asking, who’s gonna be next?” Richie wondered innocently, apparently unconsciously caressing Eddie’s hand who was practically lying on top of him.

Eddie squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. He ran away from home that day in an attempt to find peace and support in his friends, but at that moment he realized that he seemed to have stepped on a minefield that had been charged for a very, very long time.

Feeling Eddie trying to pull away, Richie grabbed his wrists and pulled him back, and Eddie gave in because he could never say no to him.

Was afraid of what the response would be if he ever talked back.

Glancing at them briefly, Stan wearily covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

"How long are you going to be like this? We gave you time to come around, but you continue to act like an asshole."

Eddie felt rather than heard Richie huff and closed his eyes, naively hoping that it would not affect him if he pretended not to be here. However, Richie's voice, drenched in poison with every word, came right next to his ear. “ _ Gave me time _ _?_ How generous of you. Only this is me, without the fucking mask that all of you have chosen to wear, because you're cowards, ashamed to admit the fact that meeting face to face with a fucking killer clown could shake up your perfect little lives.”

With the echo of words from the walls of the clubhouse, a chill swept over his skin, and Eddie closed his eyes even tighter.

“Richie, stop,” he said quietly, foolishly hoping it would work the way it did before.

However, the grip on his wrists suddenly became even tighter, and Eddie couldn't hold back his involuntary gasp and tried to free his hands and move away, but Richie pressed him even closer.

“What, Eds? Am I making you uncomfortable?” Richie grinned and squeezed his fingers even tighter, and Eddie hissed in discomfort dancing just on the edge of pain. “It's time to take off your rose-colored glasses. You didn't think you could wear them forever, did you? I also gave you time, and…”

“G-Get away from him,” Bill’s hard voice suddenly came.

Richie's grip on his wrists didn't loosen, but his gaze shifted from Eddie's face twisted in pain to Bill, who had already risen to his feet.

There was only a thin, fragile thread left between Richie and Bill, an echo of the once blooming friendship after that fight at Neibolt that Beverly had told Eddie about. Every day it was tightening more and more, and for a moment Eddie thought he heard a treacherous snap when Richie finally spoke, his voice soaked with indifferent mockery.

“And what are you going to do if I don't, hm? Drag me to your dear clown best friend once again?”

“Richie!” Stan exclaimed indignantly, flashing a startled, wary gaze between him and Bill.

Richie ignored him, staring with amusement at Bill's clenched fists.

“What, are you going to hit me again?”

_ He’s asking for a fight, _ Eddie realized with horror and tried to get away from him again, but Richie held him with a stranglehold, and he could only look at Bill with his pleading eyes, silently begging him not to do anything that could not be taken back.

But it was already too late. The timer had long been approaching zero, and the explosion was inevitable.

“Don't like the fact that I don't grovel at your feet? Well, sorry to disappoint, Billy, but I'm not Eds or Stan and I'm not going to follow you around like a lost puppy and listen to your “everything is fine” bullshit because it's fucking not.”

Finally letting go of Eddie, who had been startled by the tone of his voice and his sudden rudeness, Richie got to his feet. Bill's knuckles turned white from how tightly he clenched his fists, and Eddie wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and beg them to stop, because he could no longer put up with it, could not try to keep them together.

"What, those scars," he pointed to the barely healed marks scattered along Stan's face, “appeared out of nowhere? You weren’t almost eaten alive by a clown living in a dungeon, huh? Rings any bells?"

Huffing, Richie again turned his gaze from Stan's pursed lips to Bill and came close to him, slightly tilting his head, and the smile on his lips made Eddie's skin break out in paralyzing goosebumps.

“Come on, hit me. I know you want to,” Richie nodded at Bill's still clenched fists, and for a moment it seemed that Bill would finally break and give in to the provocation, but at the last second he unclenched his hands and shook his head. “That's what I thought. Seems like all of your heroic courage went into dragging us to die in search of G-G-Georgie’s corpse.”

In the blink of an eye, Stan grabbed Bill's wrist and pulled him back, but he did not tear his hard, cold gaze from Richie, who was grinning wider with every moment.

Eddie could not take his eyes off him, could not believe his ears and tried to convince himself that he had misheard, but Bill's quiet, firm voice shattered the last remnants of his doubt into small pieces.

“Get out of here.”

Richie's smirk wavered, but did not vanish from his lips, it’s undertone only changing from amusement to the already familiar cold, and he turned to Eddie, who glanced at Bill and Stan and then lowered his gaze to the ground, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

He knew what the silence hanging around them meant, knew what they expected of him, but Eddie did not want to choose, He did not want to tear apart the remains of the only thing that still gave him the strength not to give up, irrevocably trample the only place where he didn’t feel like  _ no one _ , but the way Richie looked at him expectantly spoke for itself.

"Richie..." Eddie whispered, closing his eyes because it was all  _ too much. _

When he finally opened them, Eddie was met by the same gaze, empty and emotionless, and Richie put his hands in his pockets, not even giving Stan and Bill a last glance, and shrugged.

“Have a nice stay.”

And after Richie disappeared outside the door of the clubhouse, leaving them just like Beverly, Mike and Ben had left, there was no turning back. The Losers' Club fell apart as if it did not exist at all, a happy mirage with a predictable ending invisible through the lenses of rose-colored glasses until they cracked, ripping them out of the world of illusion.

Before that, Eddie tried to quiet the voice in his head that whispered that Richie was  _ right, _ while the second, comforting voice reassured him that Richie was just not okay, that he was saying and doing all these things because he was trying to pour out all his emotions so that they didn't drag him down, that he doesn't really  _ mean _ all of this.

However, that day Eddie finally realized, saw with his own eyes that there was nothing left of Richie with whom he shared his happiest memories, who knew how to make him laugh even on the lousiest days and was always there for him, no matter what.

They have not exchanged a word since then, never smiled at each other the way they used to, and today their eyes met for the first time since that day, and only now Eddie realizes how much he misses him.

He doesn't know this Richie, doubts that he ever knew him  _ at all _ , because all the cruelty, coldness and indifference that showed, finally crawled out that summer, could not have appeared out of nowhere, but that does not stop Eddie from missing what had seeped right through his fingers. Missing how calm he felt next to Richie, how warm and soothing were his arms, or when they shared ice cream, or when they locked themselves in one of their rooms because they wanted to spend time alone, just the two of them.

Sometimes Eddie lets his facade down and allows these thoughts to break in and fill his head until the sun rises, when he will have to put a mask on again and pretend that he is still the same, that there is no gaping hole in his chest that never seems to heal. Allows himself to wonder what would have happened if they hadn't listened to Bill, hadn’t followed him and went through what they went through, breaking themselves from the inside forever.

Then he and Richie would’ve still been friends, then Eddie wouldn’t have wanted to scream his throat raw from the horrifying feeling of loneliness and deafening silence stepping on his heels. Then life would’ve gone on as usual and everything would’ve been alright.

But nothing is all right now, no matter how much Eddie pretends, no matter how hard Bill and Stan try to convince themselves and everyone else, no matter how long Mike hides from them and how soon Bev and Ben will finally call.

Richie is the only one who had the courage to face what happened, only as a different person.

Perhaps this  _ honesty _ opened his eyes and allowed everything that had been lurking inside all this time, waiting to spread its deadly wings, to get out.

Richie never made an attempt to speak to Eddie after Bill had kicked him out of the pitiful remnants of the Losers' Club, never looked at him or even seemed to remember his existence until today.

Eddie doesn't want to know what has changed and what that means.

He is not blind, and rumors do not pass him by, but there is not the slightest evidence confirming hushed whispers in school toilets. Richie did not make new friends after the old ones  _ turned away _ from him, did not try to take revenge on them in any way, and continue to keep up the “everything is fine” attitude, no.

His indifference and the facade which Eddie stopped recognizing a long time ago attracted people, but Richie didn't seem to care, because Eddie had never seen him with someone more than a couple of times over the years. Before, Richie was ready to do anything to draw attention to himself, to make people just  _ look _ at him, and now he doesn't even have to try for them to be drinking in his every word and watching his every move with heavy sighs, and the teachers praise him, because Richie has been at the top of the class since middle school.

And Eddie would be lying if he said that he erased Richie from his thoughts like he erased him from his life the day he realized there’s no going back. That he did not watch Richie from afar, futilely trying to discern  _ echoes _ of what he loved so much in those once warm eyes shining with amusement.

Eddie forbade himself to miss it, forbade regretting that he followed Bill and did not stop Richie that day when he lost him forever, but he cannot hide from himself when he is alone.

Maybe time does change people, but Eddie seems to be an exception.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna touch the sky no more  
> I just wanna feel the ground when I'm coming down  
> It's been way too long  
> And I don't even wanna get high no more  
> Just want it out of my life, out of my life, out
> 
> I wanna cut you outta my dreams 'til I'm bleeding out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kamala Harris’ voice* We did it, Joe!
> 
> I'm sorry it's taken so long, I promise that the next chapter will be out as soon as possible!  
> For now, I wanna wish a Merry Christmas to everyone who's still here and is a part of the Reddie fandom xx
> 
> Enjoy :'))
> 
> [ "You're What I Bleed" Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7kulnYpzeqA3sRxx7cCbFg?si=bRAW-gLAQ8aZy4YxqIaq3g)
> 
> **********************  
> TW/CW for this chapter:  
> coarse language, verbal harassment, mentions of bullying, inappropriate comments that can be taken as pedophilia, homophobic language, mentions of unintentional physical violence  
> **********************  
> Please let me know if I missed any!
> 
> The better half of this chapter is not beta’d and English is not my first language so yeah, take it or leave it lmao  
> Love y’all so much❤️

For years Eddie has monthly picked up the same medicine from the drugstore, taking the bag from Mr. Keene’s sweaty hands, forced to listen to the hardly appropriate comments the man makes every single time.

_“Here are your little pills.”_

_“Say hello to Mrs. Kaspbrak for me!”_

_“How is your health? When was the last time your mom took you to the doctor’s for a check-up? Because I can do it for free, as a favor to my favorite customer,”_ punctuated by a creepy smile on those dry lips.

Eddie doesn't want to think about what Mr. Keene means by that, and only smiles briefly and shakes his head, picking up the order and leaving the pharmacy as quickly as possible.

The trees have yet to start fading into warm, rich gold. The whole city will be painted in the most colorful shades of bronze and scarlet towards the end of September, and yesterday the first week of the senior year came to an end. It wasn’t as difficult as he expected; although the pressure has clearly increased since last year, at least there were no incidents.

Of course, this isn’t counting the comments Tyler and his friends have thrown in Eddie’s direction every single day along with the sideways glances in the corridors, which he mostly doesn’t care about.

Since the first day, Eddie’s interacted with barely anyone, except for teamwork during lessons and short conversations at lunch breaks. A couple of times he noticed the top of Stan's head in the crowd of students hurrying after the bell rang, and if before the sight made him sad, made him want to call out, catch up, invite Stan to the movies, the clubhouse, anywhere; now Eddie doesn’t feel anything, not a single ping of regret or nostalgia that plagued him before.

The pills rattle in the paper bag, and Eddie grabs it and imagines how, for the next month, he’ll be flushing them down the toilet, day after day. Sonia doesn’t know that he stopped taking the medicine four years ago, and Eddie wants to keep it that way.

Perhaps he could have saved thousands of dollars, but he can’t risk asking Mr. Keene to change the order, only for his mother to figure out a way to find out about it, as always, and their more or less stable relationship to be shattered yet again

Eddie treasures the calmness that has found its way under their roof, suppressed his irritation and swallowed every urge to snap back for too long to risk losing everything in a heartbeat.

The doorbell rings when he opens the door and steps out of the pharmacy and into the fresh air before he heads up the street and looks inside the bag. In addition to the usual six packages, he notices the seventh and wants to read the label to understand what it is and, most importantly, _for whom,_ but he suddenly bumps into someone. The pharmacy bag almost falls out of his hands, and when Eddie catches it, he feels someone's hands already holding it, and only then, through the panic of losing the pills, does he remember that he almost knocked someone down because he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.

Or, this person nearly knocked _him_ down. It just isn’t possible that two people did not immediately notice each other and couldn’t avoid running into one another. That thought pushes Eddie out of surprise and plunges him headlong into irritation, and he looks up, getting ready to voice his annoyance, but his mouth goes desert dry.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Richie is the first to speak, tilting his head slightly to the side, and fuck, Eddie hasn't heard his voice for so long, at least not so _close,_ and he almost drops the paper bag again.

Indignation dies on his tongue when he feels those eyes on him for the second time in the last week, which hasn’t happened in a very, _very_ long time, and it throws him off his rhythm so much that Eddie only realizes that he is mindlessly staring at Richie after a grin lazily make its way across Richie’s lips.

“So, are we going to just stand here, or are you taking your bag back?”

Suddenly he remembers that their hands are touching, that Richie is holding his bag, that these are _Richie's_ hands, and tries to pull away as nonchalantly as possible, but judging by the sparkle of amusement in Richie's eyes, it doesn't work very well.

It throws him off balance that Richie doesn't seem to care at all that Eddie literally almost knocked him down, and the fact that Richie even spoke to him, showed him that he’s aware of his _existence_ in this world instead of pretending that he never knew him at all, leads Eddie to have no idea how to act.

He was sure, as soon as he looked into those unreadable eyes, that Richie would snap, or pour poisonous insults over his head, or possibly even silently walk past him and move on. They haven’t talked for so long that Eddie really doesn’t know what he expected, but definitely not _this_.

And Richie is standing so close, even if there’s still a few feet left between them after Eddie backed away like a frightened animal, but this is closer than they've been in years. Eddie tries not to stare, tries to hide how he almost eagerly takes in every little detail of the once-familiar face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the barely noticeable freckles on his pale skin that’s never given in to the sun, and the shocking blue, cold tint of the eyes that once shone with joy and happiness.

Now there is almost nothing in them, just a faint spark of amusement and something that makes his skin itch, makes him want to remove himself from the situation, just to shake these eyes off of his feverish skin.

Finally taking back the package, slightly flinching when he hears a quiet chuckle crawling its way to the tips of his fingers, Eddie pulls himself together and pushes down the thought that _this is their first conversation in many years, you can’t make yourself look like a fucking idiot, say something already._

“What are you doing here?” he asks, the annoyance in his voice only slightly feigned, because Richie just can't fucking stop looking at him like that and he feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

Looking around and putting his now free hands in his pockets, Richie shrugs. “Sorry, I didn't know you owned this street,” he replies casually, and the corners of his lips twitch as if he is holding back a grin.

And hell, if that doesn't annoy him even more, because Eddie can't read him, and the gears in his head stopped the moment his face collided with Richie's chest and he felt those eyes on him.

He had barely recovered from the cafeteria five days ago and certainly wasn’t ready to meet Richie face-to-face as if they were old friends who happened to bump into each other on the street. They are anything but such, and Eddie doesn’t want to make a scene, just wants to go home to the safety of his room, but something in Richie’s eyes tells him that this is not a good idea.

Choosing to ignore the sarcastic comment, he turns on the defense mechanism.

“Are you blind or just weren’t taught to look around when walking?” Eddie huffs, frowning in response to Richie's grin growing with every word and his almost curious look.

“I can say the same about you. And don't frown, wrinkles don’t suit your cute little face.”

The air gets stuck in his throat, and Eddie feels his cheeks flush and frowns even harder, fighting off the impulse to point a finger at Richie’s chest and voice what’s on his mind. Because Richie’s been ignoring his existence all these years, ever since the door of the clubhouse shut behind him after Bill no longer wanted to put up with the kind of person he has become, and now he suddenly starts a conversation with Eddie and says things like that like it’s nothing?

“Don't call my face cute,” Eddie snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

His words, however, seem to amuse Richie even more, and he tilts his head and looks at him, not fleetingly and shamefully, as Eddie’s used to, but making him wants to shrink, hide as much skin as possible and ask Richie to stop, to turn away, close his eyes only so that they stop seeing right through him.

Shrugging casually, Richie grins, for the umpteenth fucking time. “It's not like I haven’t called you cute before.”

And it's true, because Richie used to pinch his cheek, hugging him from behind, ruffling his hair and saying, “God, you are so fucking cute, Eds. The Miss America of cute boys."

They did a lot of things as children, and, looking back, Eddie realizes that some of them went far beyond friendship. Richie constantly pulled him into hugs or onto his lap, burying his face in Eddie’s neck and hugging him so tightly around the waist that his ribs almost crunched, but Eddie didn’t even think about objecting and fighting back and only breathlessly asked Richie not to get drool all over his neck.

And those stupid nicknames, God, there were so many of them, and sometimes Eddie actually liked them, especially when Richie used one of his ridiculous Voices, making Eddie laugh so hard he cried while trying to cover Richie’s mouth with his hand to shut him up only to have it licked.

Every time Eddie got into the hammock and cuddled as close to Richie as possible, crawling into his arms despite his ostentatious discontent that Richie never followed the schedule for using the fucking thing, and their legs intertwined and they fell asleep like that, right in the clubhouse, in each other's arms, until the others woke them up, Richie grumbled that no one had the right to look so adorable with sleepy eyes and creases on their cheeks.

Sometimes Richie’s hands found their way under his shirt, resting on his lower back and barely caressing the sensitive skin there, and Eddie's whole body seemed to tremble until he lost the melting warm of Richie’s skin on his and could only remember the faint ghost of it under the dark of night, locked away in his bedroom.

But that was _before_ , those childish, ridiculous displays of friendship, and now they are older. It's not like that anymore.

“That was before, Richie.”

With his words, something changes in Richie’s eyes, Eddie can’t quite pinpoint _what,_ but for a moment he feels so uneasy and wants to return the slight curiosity and amusement that no longer sparkled there, now replaced by something dark and so unreadable.

Eddie presses the bag to his chest in an almost defensive manner, as if trying to hide from this inexplicable gaze, which makes the pills rattle, and he can hardly fight the urge to lower his eyes in... _shame_?

"Is she still stuffing you with this shit?" Richie asks as if he's really interested, and nods at the bag in his hands.

This is another one of those things that they did before as naive children who didn’t know the troubles greedily waiting for them outside of their small happy worlds, and Eddie suddenly remembers how Richie always teased him about his pills and made fun of Sonia’s upbringing.

“She just wants to protect me!” Eddie used to snap, trying to grab his fanny pack where the pills, which his watch had reminded him to take, were.

He still defended Sonia back then, justified her actions and didn’t see anything wrong in them, only a desire to protect him from everything bad in this rotten world, including hundreds of thousands of diseases.

“From what? Life?” Richie snorted, not giving him the fanny pack, lifting it in the air and laughing obnoxiously when Eddie could not reach it even on his tiptoes.

He didn’t have an answer to that, because Eddie lived in a fairytale world where he could stay only if he listened to his mother, who undoubtedly wished only the best for him.

“It's none of your business, Richie. Give me back my fanny pack right now!” Eddie demanded then and angrily stamped his foot, making Richie double over in laughter and continue to mock him.

“It's none of your business, Richie,” Eddie snaps now as pulls the bag even closer to him as if Richie might try and take it from him.

As absurd as it seems, he really doesn't know what to expect. It’s been a very long time since he'd been able to read Richie and even longer, predict him.

Eddie believes, naively counting on his premonition, that Richie will continue to push, as always, will finally remove this mask of indifferent friendliness and show his true face, even _hopes_ so, because then he will know how to act in response.

However, Richie looks at him one last time and just shrugs again.

“Well, if you say so. See you around, Eds."

A bitter aftertaste of _“Don’t call me that!”_ hovers on his tongue, and, before he has time to say it out loud, Richie passes him and, without saying a word, continues his way down the street, leaving Eddie in a state of shocked numbness with only one thought in his head. 

_What the fuck?_

He doesn’t turn around, finds the strength to restrain the urge to seek the look which he tried to hide from just a minute earlier. Shaking his head, Eddie unclenches the already whitened knuckles on the rumpled bag, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

The way home doesn’t take long, even though Eddie is so immersed in his thoughts that are getting more and more confused with every passing second that he almost crosses the road against the lights, flinching when the driver signals him and shouts something that vaguely sounds like "watch where you’re going, twat."

He really needs to pay attention to what is happening around him if he wants to make it home alive. And stop bumping into people and losing touch with reality because of a fleeting bodily contact and a couple of carelessly thrown words.

Climbing the steps of his house, Eddie again returns his attention to the pharmacy bag, trying to forget any thoughts about Richie and his strange behavior, and recalls the seventh bottle of pills. He is planning on asking his mother about it, is going to look into the living room and give her the medicine, casually wondering what these new pills are and for whom, as he hears a man's voice coming from behind the front door.

Moments later, the door opens and a man in his forties comes out with a container full of tools, and Eddie also sees Sonia smiling and saying goodbye to the stranger. Said stranger only nods to him before heading to the car parked near their house, which Eddie only notices now, and his mother's voice finally catches his attention after he hears the rumble of a running engine.

“I was cleaning your room today and noticed how the lock on the window was loosened,” Sonia says as he enters the house and closes the door behind him, and looks at Eddie as if she wants him to finish the sentence for her, explain what does it mean.

Only Eddie has no idea what she's talking about.

Obviously dissatisfied with his silence, Sonia takes the bag with medicine from him and quickly looks through it before nodding approvingly.

“I called a master, now everything should be in order. Next time, come to me right away. This is very serious, Eddie. Anyone can sneak into our house,” she scolds him before heading to the kitchen.

Frowning, Eddie slips out of his shoes and heads for the stairs, forgetting about the medication, too lost in the thought about when could his window have broken if he left it open at night and only closed it when leaving the room.

The new lock is double with a latch on both sides of the window frame, and Eddie opens the window and falls onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. Too much has piled on him in the last half an hour, and Eddie wants nothing more than to hide his face in the pillow until all annoying thoughts leave him alone.

Stupid pills, Mr. Keene, the loose lock on the window and Richie...

It was so strange, he just spoke to Eddie as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn’t not talked for many years, avoiding any contact with each other. And Eddie isn't sure if it's mutual, because he can't be sure of _anything_ when it comes to Richie these days, but not a day went by when Eddie didn't think about him, could not get Richie out of his head, as much as he wanted to.

Remembering the past, warm smiles and tight hugs is very different from feeling the burning, looking into his very soul once familiar eyes and diving into them so deeply that Eddie has to gasp for air, fight for every breath when he gets back to the surface.

It wasn’t sobering, no, and it didn’t clear anything, only made it more misleading, and Eddie groans into his palms and buries his fingers in his hair, not understanding what this means and what Richie fucking wants from him.

Because Richie has never done anything without a reason, not since he’s lost a piece of himself that summer which irrevocably changed them all. And Eddie doesn’t understand why he acted this way, why he shrugged indifferently and left him alone, backed off so easily, without complaints, and pleading, and desperate requests to stop, which were needed before so that Richie would stop pushing him, milking the begging he so longed to hear.

All these thoughts are making his head hurt, and Eddie knows that he won’t be able to get to the possible reason for his behavior, won’t even graze the surface of understanding Richie, and gives up, throwing one last glance at the window before going to the kitchen at the sound of Sonia’s voice calling him to eat.

It's none of his business, and he won't dig into Richie. They are no longer friends, they have long been _no one_ to each other, and Eddie wants to keep it that way, convinces himself that this is exactly what he needs.

He doesn’t miss Richie and he won’t worry, won’t even think about why he suddenly returned to his life, if you can even call it that. One short, absurdly strange conversation and a look thrown in a crowd of people... Eddie’s looking into something that does not exist.

Better not to waste too much time on this.

***

“Everyone, break into pairs!” The coach's voice is heard, drawing the attention of the students gathered on the playing field. “Kaspbrak, get up from the bench. The number of students is odd, so today you will take part in the lesson.”

Sighing heavily, Eddie gets up from the bleachers and walks to the field as slowly as possible, while the others pair up, loudly talking to each other. The second group of students occupies the other side of the field, having already done a warm-up, and are preparing to jog.

Since elementary school, he’s been in a special health group and was exempted from physical education, instead periodically submitting papers, because of his health that was in fact in perfect order save for rare colds. Eddie can’t say that he doesn’t enjoy having two free periods a week it gives him, though, so he goes along with Sonia’s insistence on him avoiding PE.

The exception, of course, is such lessons when it turns out that one person is absent and he has to pair up with someone whom he hardly knows and endure other people's sweaty hands on his body and, in turn, touch others.

However, today seems to be Eddie’s lucky day, although it’s also debatable, because after everyone divides into pairs, the only person who’s left is Bill, waving at him from the place he’s already reserved on the field for them.

Stan is absent today, for some reason, because usually he and Bill pair up right away while Eddie reads or does whatever on the benches, and he heads to Bill while the coach gives out exercises.

“Hi,” Bill greets him with a smile when Eddie walks up to him, and he gives him a brief smile in return. “You sure you don't mind? I can warm up by myself.”

“No, it's okay.” He shakes his head and reties his shoelaces before starting the first exercise.

They warm up in silence, focused on getting each movement right, and it turns out to be easier than Eddie thought it would be. He avoids Bill's gaze, preferring to stare at his sneakers and listen attentively to the instructions of the coach, who’s walking around the field correcting all the students. And Bill, thank God, doesn’t try to start a casual conversation, only helps him to do an exercise right from time to time, for which Eddie is grateful. Usually, such lessons are terribly awkward, and he is glad that this is not one of them.

However, he feels Bill's eyes on him when they sit down face-to-face with their legs straightened to the sides and take each other’s hands, taking turns pulling each other forward, but Eddie pays no attention to it. Soon the warm-up comes to an end and the coach allows him to return to the bleachers.

Saying goodbye to Bill, Eddie turns around and heads to the benches, already looking forward to taking a cool shower to wash off all the sweat and dirt that must have stained his skin and gym clothes after sitting on the grass.

Someone's eyes, probably Bill’s, follow him, but then Eddie hears a whistle and turns around, noticing that Bill has already positioned himself on one of the stadium's running tracks, and frowns as his attention is drawn back to the group at the other end of the field.

His eyes meet with Richie’s, and it feels like a bucket of ice-cold water has been dumped right over his head for only a moment, until Richie turns away and follows the others to the locker room. This moment, though, is enough to notice a shadow in the eyes that seem to have long been watching him, but not to recognize it.

It sends a shock through his system, and Eddie really doesn't know why breathing becomes both harder and easier at the same time. All week he’s been unconsciously seeking Richie out in the crowd, trying to catch his eye, only to remember why he wanted to hide from him but did not succeed.

Everything seemed to have returned to its place as if he feverishly made up that meeting on the street, because Richie hadn't paid him any attention all these days, even though he surely couldn’t help feeling how Eddie’s hard gaze bored into the back of his head in classes they have together as if trying to get into his head and figure out what the fuck is going on in there.

And now Eddie caught Richie looking at him yet again, obviously not fleetingly or by accident, and doesn’t know what to think. It's so confusing, Richie’s inexplicable behavior, his neutral expression in contrast to the strange shadow in his eyes, and Eddie doesn't want to think about it, at least not until he gets under the bed covers where he won’t be able to hide from the voice in his head.

The lesson comes to an end, and the coach detains him and a couple of other people who also did not take part in the lesson, and then Eddie slowly returns to the already empty locker room.

He’s always hated being alone, especially after he was left with no choice but to deal with it after losing the only friends he’d ever had, one by one; hated being alone, because then there was nowhere to go, no escape, certainly not from his own self.

Eddie hated being alone so much that he asked Richie to come over at night, when he could no longer put up with the nightmares haunting him in his sleep and hushed voices in his head and just needed to feel safe. He’d always felt safe with Richie.

And Richie didn’t seem to mind, although he was clearly taken aback by Eddie quietly, almost bashfully asking him to climb into his window when Sonia went to sleep, but he did it anyway, still got out of his own house under the cover of night and crawled under Eddie's covers, pressing his shaking body to his chest.

Back then Eddie still wasn’t allowed to open the window without permission, and so he showed Richie how to open and then close it from the outside so that Sonia wouldn’t know who sneaked into his room almost every other night and hugged Eddie so tightly to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks.

Richie let him cry and only held him tighter with every shuddering sob until Eddie felt whole again.

But that was left in the past, distant and irreversible, when Eddie made the choice.

Besides, he was already used to being alone, as much as one can get used to it; was used to locking himself away in his room with no one to spill the thoughts threatening to consume him, drag him to the rock bottom to.

There is something special about such loneliness, though, despite all its flaws. Being alone is better than being surrounded by people who don't give a single fuck about you or just pretend to care about you, your life, and your problems.

Just like now, being all alone in the boys' locker room is better than if the already cramped space was filled with sweaty, naked bodies while loud voices talking over each other echoed from the concrete walls. Eddie doesn’t think he could handle company right now, feel someone’s dirty, shameless eyes on him and listen to _“pick up the soap for me, Kaspbrak?”_ or _"nice ass",_ which would undoubtedly be followed by a gloating cackle.

 _This_ loneliness is a relief, and Eddie takes a quick shower, enjoying the peace and quiet, knowing that the next lesson won’t begin in fifteen minutes, and slowly towels and dries his hair before putting on fresh clothes, humming under his breath.

“So, since when are you and Billy best friends again?”

Eddie freezes in place when he hears a voice from behind his back, from the direction of the door, the click of which is heard a moment later, and belatedly realizes that it belongs to Richie.

“What?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, like Eddie didn’t catch the words spoken in a casual tone even though he’s sure that something else is hidden behind them.

Turning around, he notices Richie leaning against one of the lockers, looking at him with the same tilt of his head, as if studying, reading him like an open book, and Eddie can hardly suppress the urge to shrink under his intense yet neutral gaze. These fucking contrasts, which don’t go with each other at all, but are laced so perfectly throughout all of Richie, are so confusing, and Eddie can do nothing but stare at him, expecting... something.

Rolling his eyes, Richie huffs.

“Don't play dumb, Eddie. You two looked pretty cozy out there,” he says, and something shimmers in his eyes in the dim lighting of the locker room and the rays of the sun barely getting through the blurry windows.

Yet again Richie catches him by surprise, bursts into his day as if he hadn’t been ignoring him for a whole week, and it scares and freaks the fuck out of Eddie. But when he opens his mouth, he says something completely different from what is blurrily flashing in his head.

“I paired up with him only because Stan was absent, and the coach told me to join the lesson and help Bill out,” he defends himself, having no clue why. As if Eddie did something wrong. It’s none of Richie’s business, never was, but especially not now.

“Yeah, it's probably so scarring, being forced to pair up with someone who was willing to sacrifice you to a demonic clown in order to resurrect his already rotten brother.”

The poisonous sneer in Richie's voice knocks the air out of his lungs, and only now Eddie notices the sparkle in his eyes, sees the anger boiling there. Like cackling energy, years of pent-up jealousy and rage hidden in the farthest corners of the tainted soul, held together only to break out and burn everything down in its wake.

The _clown_ hits him the hardest, striking right in the chest, and Eddie can hardly breathe, fighting off the images burnt into his eyelids that only came alive at lonely nights before.

He doesn’t want to hear it, can’t go through it all again, through no fault of anyone else but his own. And this fear, paralyzing, numbing fear gives Eddie the strength to finally pull himself together and voice what has been building up in him since their last meeting, and maybe all these years since he stopped recognizing what was going on between them.

“Richie, enough! First, you stare at me at the cafeteria and chat me up in the middle of a fucking street like we’re best buddies, and now you decide to what, lecture me about who I talk to? Who do you think gave you the right to decide that? Because it wasn’t me”.

“Nobody is asking you,” Richie cuts off in a harsh voice, as firm as his words.

Eddie's chest heaves from the anger running through his veins, almost blinding him, and he sees nothing but that unreadable expression on Richie's face and thinks about how much he wants to put his fist right into it, just to see at least a single emotion twisting its features, even if it’s pain.

“I can make my own decisions, Richie,” Eddie exclaims, taking a step forward and pointing a finger in Richie’s direction as if he wants to show him his place. Which maybe _is_ the case. “You can’t just turn your back on me and then years later come bursting into my life and tell me what to do.”

With a sneer, Richie pushes himself from the lockers and takes a step towards him, and Eddie's hand falls as quickly as it rose because something in the blue eyes that are burning into him now tells him to shut his mouth, lower his gaze and back away until there’s no escape.

Eddie's back slams into the lockers as he unintentionally takes a few steps back, but Richie doesn’t stop until he crowds him against the cool metal of the locker.

“ _You_ fucking turned your back on _me,_ because I refused to follow your lead and conveniently pretend that we didn’t almost get eaten alive by a fucking killer clown in the sewers.”

And there’s the _clown_ again, and Eddie almost chokes on what little air he has left in his lungs that treacherously shrinking from within, being almost pinned to the cold locker without a single chance of escape by those eyes alone.

“Richie, please, please stop! Drop it, I don’t want to talk about it!” he begs in a furious whisper, closing his eyes when Richie chuckles maliciously.

“Sure. What do you want to talk about, then? Maybe the fact that you chose someone who almost got you killed over your best fucking friend who wanted nothing but to keep you safe?”

 _Keep you safe,_ echoes through Eddie's head before the blinding anger clouds his already blurry vision.

“I did not choose Bill over you!” Eddie exclaims desperately and only then realizes that he is now cornered not only by Richie's gaze but also by his hands on the locker on either side of Eddie.

And it seems that these words were not the best choice.

“Oh really? It seemed that way the day you stayed with him after he kicked me out of your girls’ band, and it seems that way now that you’re best pals for life again.” 

“We're not…” Eddie tries again, but chokes on indignation, blinking rapidly. He simply can’t believe what he’s hearing, can’t believe that this Richie, who is saying all these things now, and the Richie he’s been watching all these years, restrained and detached, is the same person. “Richie, what the fuck? _Kicked you out?_ You left him no choice!”

“Yeah, our noble William did the right thing, as always, and kicked me out because I left him no choice, '' Richie grins, leaning even closer, if it’s even possible, and not taking his gaze off Eddie, sending an icy shiver under his skin. “But I’m not the villain in this story, and deep down, under all that facade that you’ve built to hide from the truth, you know it. It was all his fault.” 

The naked heartlessness in his voice is numbing, how easily he spit out these words, as if they mean nothing but the terrible truth, and Eddie feels his mouth go dry with shock, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Richie, it wasn’t his fault. How can you say that?”

Something shifts in Richie's face then, and this sudden change stands out of his usual neutral expression, changing it from luring with its indifference to frightening, and Eddie's skin goes tight.

Richie wasn’t like this the last time they talked, the first time they talked in a very long time filled with rejection, and disregard, and feigned indifference. The contrast between the Richie in front of the pharmacy, all light sarcastic remarks and chilly, almost friendly nonchalance, and this Richie, dotted with quiet anger, bubbling just under the surface of these blue eyes looking right into Eddie’s very being, has him stunned to the point of forgetting how to breathe.

He’s scared, Eddie suddenly understands, horrified by the mere idea, and he hasn’t felt this scared since… 

That tacky, suffocating feeling only grows stronger when Richie leans down, his eyes narrowing.

“We were nothing more than collateral damage, Eddie, and I tried to tell you that, don’t you remember?

And Eddie does, suddenly, and the memory he has long repressed and forgotten comes back to him so vividly he goes lightheaded. 

It was the day when they’d first crossed the threshold of that cursed house, and Eddie had just returned from the hospital with a fresh cast, locking himself in his room away from his mother's indignation and finally letting the realization of what happened to tear down his still pale cheeks. 

Richie climbed into his window that day without even warning him, but they’d been doing it for so long that Richie no longer needed an invitation to sneak into Eddie's room and hide them both from the real world for a little while.

The first thing Eddie noticed through the veil of tears that hadn't stopped since he escaped from Neibolt was how swollen Richie’s face was and how weird his nose looked, but Richie didn't seem to care at all when he jumped over the window frame and climbed onto the bed, gently touching Eddie's cast and looking at it like he was trying to peek inside.

“Richie, what are you doing here?” Eddie hiccuped, wiping away the tears and pushing down the warmth spreading on his cheeks from how Richie didn’t take his eyes from his hand, intensity mixed with something wild, unbridled in his gaze. “What happened to your face?”

Richie’s silence started to get to him then, on top of all the feelings threatening to tear him apart, and Eddie wanted to repeat the question, find out why his nose looked so fucking swollen, but Richie ignored him in favor of staring at his cast.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

The hiss of Richie’s unusually cold voice hit him so suddenly Eddie felt a different kind of breathlessness from when he clutched the inhaler tightly in his trembling hand. 

But before he could ask what did he mean by that, Richie continued, “Gonna smash his fucking face in so he’ll never do something like that to you again.”

“What?” Eddie asked, frowning, having no idea who Richie was talking about and why his voice sounded so venomous.

Richie scoffed, his gaze still on Eddie’s cast. 

“What a shame you didn’t even get to bade Bill farewell because today’s the last day that you’ve seen him. He’s finally gonna get what he deserves.”

It finally clicks in his head, Richie’s outrage, his flashing eyes and the venom in his words, spit out with cold anger Eddie has never heard from him before.

“Richie, what the hell? How could he know that...” Eddie began, but Richie's grip on his arm tightened, forcing him to gasp and swallow the words burning his tongue.

“I don't give a fuck if he knew or not. He should’ve used his brain before dragging us into that fucking house,” Richie snapped, finally meeting his eyes. And that’s what it took for Eddie to shrink away, remember the dizzying headache pulsing in his veins.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. He didn't have the strength to argue with Richie, to try and defend his point of view. There just was no point.

“Rich, my arm hurts, and all the stuff they put me on at the hospital is making me dizzy. Can we _please_ drop it? I can’t do this right now.”

In the blink of an eye, Richie let go of his hand and crept even closer, not taking his eyes off him, studying Eddie’s face as if looking for signs of any discomfort or pain.

“You need to rest,” he said softly after a moment, touching Eddie’s good hand.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed in a whisper, laying down next to him, and in such proximity, he could notice traces of blood near Richie's nose and the way his pale skin was darker in places barely noticeable in the dim light of the room. But then Richie pulled Eddie even closer until there was almost no space left between them. “Will you stay until I fall asleep? I don't… I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course, Eds.”

And Eddie relaxed, let go of everything for the first time that long day, which he then thought would be the worst in his life, hazily feeling a soothing hand stroking his back.

It was so long ago, like it’s been centuries, not just a few years, before everything went to shit, before Eddie couldn’t take it anymore, not without Richie by his side. And this Richie, who opened to him after they had barely made it out of the depths of Derry alive, was not the one Eddie knew and felt _at home_ with, just like that night.

Richie's voice rips Eddie out of his memory then, bringing him back to reality.

“And you still chose Bill over me, after everything he put us through. You crossed me out of your life as soon as he decided that I was trying to burst your perfect little bubble of content and happiness.”

And Eddie wants to scream that it wasn’t like that, that he didn’t cross Richie out, didn’t chose Bill over him, hadn’t stopped thinking about him all these years, but he was _scared,_ didn’t know and was _afraid_ of this Richie, who showed his face after they have seen their worst nightmare in the flesh, but can’t say a single word.

“But guess what, Eddie? It wasn’t content and happiness. It was fucking delusion.”

These words hit him like a wave of piercing cold, and suddenly Eddie can breathe again. He tries to make sense of the thoughts thrown off by Richie's proximity and his breath on Eddie’s face, wants to run away, to hide just to get away from all of it.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he demands almost hysterically, even though deep down he knows he won’t get an answer. “ _Why_? We haven't talked, haven't even _looked_ at each other in fucking years, and you seemed happy to just leave me alone and act as though you don’t know who I am. So why now you want to fucking force your way into my life, huh? Are you obsessed with me or something?” Eddie finishes on a yell, and he regrets his choice of words as soon as they leave his mouth.

The corners of Richie’s lips twitch, a cross between a cruel smile and a grin, and his eyes, watching Eddie’s every movement, sparkle with something stifling, making it harder to breathe.

“I think you’ve been gagging for my attention. You walk around pretending like you want nothing to do with me, but deep down I know how you feel,” Richie says with sudden softness, throwing him off balance once again. “You really think I haven’t noticed the way you’re always seeking me out in the crowd, have been doing it for years? How you’re staring at the back of my head during our English class? You aren’t slick, Eddie. Maybe it’s not me who’s obsessed here.”

Eddie betrays himself by quietly gasping at the unexpected mockery in his flat, firm voice, and for some reason, his eyes burn from how close Richie is now, how he crowded him against the wall and without even touching Eddie knocks all the oxygen out of his lungs.

He just wants it to end, wants to take his things and get out of here, get as far away as possible because he doesn't know what he will do if Richie gets closer. His arms, _his whole body_ has gone limp, and Eddie can’t find the strength to put his palms onto the broad shoulders that have driven him into the corner and finally push Richie away, get out into the fresh air so that his legs would stop fucking wobbling from these sneering words.

However, Richie, it seems, hasn’t finished, because he closes the remaining distance between them and whispers almost against his lips, causing warmth to find its way under Eddie’s skin, making him even dizzier. ”Watch who you’re talking to, Eds. You really shouldn’t play with fire. We’ve all seen how you deal with what’s left of you after everything’s said and done.”

With that, Richie pulls away and leaves the locker room, leaving Eddie, still resting his back against the locker, to find his breath on trembling legs, and with the click of the door he almost falls to his knees, gasping for air.

Every word rushes through his head, pumping through his veins, and all those memories, all those touches, and smiles, and jokes, and hugs are coming back to him, and Eddie doesn't know how to stop them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let me crawl inside your veins  
> I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain  
> It's not like me to be so mean, you're all I wanted  
> Just let me hold you like a hostage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised not to take so long with the next update and I kept it, thankfully  
> This chapter was the hardest piece I've ever written in my life, and right now I want to especially remind everyone that this fic is dark and if that's not your thing, please don't read it just to give me shit that I sincerely couldn't give less of a fuck about  
> Thank you xx
> 
> [ "You're What I Bleed" Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7kulnYpzeqA3sRxx7cCbFg?si=bRAW-gLAQ8aZy4YxqIaq3g)
> 
> **********************  
> TW/CW for this chapter, contain BIG spoilers:  
>   
> graphic description of attempted rape, coarse language, sexual harassment, exhibitionism, verbal harassment, bullying, feminization, homophobic language, non-consensual groping, manhandling, physical violence, humiliation, panic attacks  
> **********************  
> Please let me know if I missed any!
> 
> Not betaed, so just bare with me rip😔🤙🏼

The school library is immersed in almost complete silence, except for the rustling of pages, muffled steps, and soft whispers that the librarian who’s barely awake at her desk pays almost no attention to. Eddie just arrived a couple of minutes ago, putting his textbooks on an empty table at the far end of the library, and intends to spend the next hour studying, since he has a free period right now.

It is already the third week of September, and he has more or less blended in with the process of constant studying and has begun preparing for exams, even though most of his classmates probably haven’t even thought about opening their textbooks yet. Better to prepare in advance, Eddie’s always told himself, so he puts on his headphones to drown out the background noise and his own thoughts and gets to work.

He loses track of time, too carried away with the exam book, and almost jumps out of his skin when someone’s hand touches his forearm. The librarian turns around at his gasp and shakes her head disapprovingly, and Eddie quickly turns off the player and turns to look at the person who so suddenly startled him.

Bill smiles down at him apologetically, and for a fleeting moment the thought that for some reason Eddie was not expecting to see _him_ rushes through his mind, and it becomes so uncomfortable so quickly that he shakes his head to shake it off.

“Sorry, I d-didn't mean to scare you,” Bill apologizes, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably s-s-should stop sneaking up on you like that.”

Eddie’s torn between the urge to huff or laugh. “It's okay,” he shrugs. “What did you want?”

Tensing, Bill glances briefly at the chair next to him, and Eddie takes the hint and sighs as quietly as possible before inviting him to sit down. They can study together, even though Bill can easily sit at any other vacant table when there are at least a dozen in the library, and Eddie doesn’t quite understand why he decided to sit with him.

Something still doesn't quite add up in his head, though, and even though Eddie bites his tongue to stop himself from asking a too obvious question directly in Bill’s face, he can’t stop his thoughts, realizing with annoyance that now he can’t return to studying as if nothing happened. Next to him, Bill pulls out his textbook, smiling at Eddie one last time before focusing on the tasks, but Eddie's thoughts are already far away from the math test.

Over the last few years, after Eddie finally gave up and broke off the remaining ties of friendship with those that were left of the Losers in the face of Stan and Bill, they’ve hardly spoken, only exchanging short greetings and forced smiles in the school hallways. This year, however, which has just begun two weeks ago, they’ve talked more often and spent more time in each other's company than in the past three and a half years.

This does not bring relief, as it might have seemed at first, but only confuses him, and Eddie doesn’t understand what has changed and why the past so suddenly returned to his life, breaking down the door and destroying the last remnants of his carefully built, feigned peace. And while he looks out of the corner of his eye at Bill, who’s busy with writing something down, he can’t help but think about what Richie told him a week ago.

How he hissed that Eddie chose Bill over him.

It’s not the first time Richie's made an unflattering comment about Bill, rolling his eyes and losing his temper when someone didn’t share his point of view. It was the same during their childhood, when there were only the four of them, though it was much more imperceptible. But since the formation of the Losers Club, things have changed.

Bill became their unofficial leader, whom they all agreed with and followed, but not Richie. Richie laughed it off and huffed at everything Bill said and turned his nose up, and they all didn’t take it seriously, blaming it on the mood, weather, and, although quietly, deep down, envy.

Eddie never really believed that, though. Never believed that Richie could be envious of Bill, because, despite all his love for his friend, Eddie always thought that Richie was smarter, and braver, and funnier. Although Bill’s stutter, his soft smile, and willingness to do anything for his friends couldn’t help but charm, in Eddie’s eyes Richie has always been something more.

It was Richie whom he turned to when he sought comfort, or advice, or a warm, slightly crooked smile, and it was Richie that he was always drawn to while the others faded in comparison.

However, this did not stop Eddie from making a choice when the time came to decide what was dearer to him, humble stability or unpredictable chaos, bursts of passive aggression, and hands that were getting rougher by day but once were gently pressing him to a warm chest.

Eddie fidgets in place, trying to shake off the thoughts that bring him nothing but barely tolerable discomfort because he doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to delve into himself and once again come to a conclusion that will only complicate everything. He just wants to graduate and finally leave this town and all his problems behind.

His blank gaze has been staring at the same line for a few minutes now, and Eddie almost flinches again when Bill quietly speaks up to avoid drawing the librarian's attention.

“Are you okay?” he asks, covering his forearm again, and Eddie restrains the impulse to pull away, even if something hidden deep inside him wants to move closer, wants to enjoy this bit of comfort, warm and sincere, that he so desperately needs.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eddie assures Bill, putting on a forced smile.

It seems to work because Bill gives him a quick glance before returning to his book. Only now burning words that Eddie can’t shake off gather on the tip of his tongue, and a moment later he finally lets them out. “Hey Bill, have you spoken to Richie after... Well, you know.”

Frowning slightly, Bill pushes his textbook aside and meets his eyes for a long moment before sighing and shaking his head.

"No, not after..." He waves his hand like that would explain what he means to Eddie. Fortunately or not, Eddie knows too well what Bill is talking about. “Why are you asking?”

Noticeably tensing, Eddie lowers his gaze to the textbook in front of him. “It’s nothing, nevermind.”

Bill doesn't seem to be satisfied with his answer, because a moment later he pulls his chair a little closer, and Eddie unconsciously shuts himself down under Bill’s frowning gaze and Bill's fingers still on his hand.

“Did something happen? You can t-tell me if he did something,” Bill whispers firmly, trying to meet his eyes, and this sudden burst of care that Eddie has almost forgotten makes his stomach twist.

Because Richie didn't do anything. Only reappeared in his life, remembering that they were once closer than best friends, that they shared every part of their lives with each other, and Eddie has no idea why. 

He shakes his head, his skin crawling under Bill's gaze that is boring into him right now as if he has the right to worry about Eddie like that.

“No, he didn't do anything,” he says, and it comes out too harshly, judging by the way Bill pulls away but still doesn’t take his eyes off him. Eddie restrains the urge to pull his hand away, too. “Seriously, Bill. It’s okay, and if it wasn't, I can take care of myself.”

Finally, Bill gets the message and backs off, because he can’t _not_ know how important independence is to Eddie, that he can deal with his problems by himself or at least try to.

But Richie is _not_ a problem, just a glitch in his life scheduled day by day, and Eddie doesn’t have the time to plunge back into the darkness that he barely escaped from years ago.

Bill's finally lets go of him, and Eddie stares for a long moment at the place where Bill’s fingers were wrapped around his forearm before shaking his head and closing the textbook and then begins to pack his things up and stuff all his school supplies into his backpack.

“Sorry, I have to go,” Eddie says in response to Bill’s confused, worried look, not even fully knowing what he’s apologizing for.

The semblance of freedom that he gains outside the grasping hands of his mother is so important to him that Eddie is not ready to let anyone close to him again because he knows that then he will only be left with nothing again. Trust hasn’t been a familiar feeling to him for a long time. Eddie wants everything to stay the exact same way it is right now, even if a part of him begs to stay here with Bill, perhaps ask him to come over, as Sonia suggested, and catch up with everything they’ve missed over the years while trying to put the broken pieces of their lives back together.

Eddie's attempt already failed, but he doesn’t want to admit it, can’t tear off the mask of confidence that has already glued itself to his face.

The clock above the library door reads almost noon, which means that the next lesson will begin in half an hour and Eddie will have to find another place where he can wait out the rest of his free period. He leaves the library and heads to his locker to drop off the textbooks that he no longer needs for today and take two new ones, already regretting that he missed the opportunity to study in the library in complete tranquility and solitude.

Was it necessary for Bill to sit next to him? Like Eddie asked for company, for this unnecessary care, which had long since lost its meaning.

Turning the lock and dialing the code, he opens the locker and removes the backpack from his shoulder before taking out the textbooks and neatly placing them on the shelf. An involuntary memory rushes into his mind then about how a couple of years ago there were nasty notes thrown in his locker almost daily, not to mention the inscriptions on its door. Eddie crumpled and threw them in the nearest trash can without even reading them; it was unlikely that what was written there could surprise him.

Thinking about it distracts him so much that he doesn’t hear the measured, long stripes behind his back and almost jumps out of his skin when Richie leans his shoulder against a nearby locker in the empty hallway.

“Hey Eds, what’s up?” 

The tone of his voice is oddly casual, and that smile on his lips seems so strange, as if it doesn’t fit Richie's face, a crooked stroke of paint on a pale, cold canvas.

Pulling himself together and calming his pounding heart from Richie’s unexpected appearance, Eddie returns his gaze to his locker and takes out the books that he needs for the next lesson. He truly doesn’t understand why he was so surprised. For the third time already Richie initiates a conversation with him out of nowhere, and Eddie doesn’t know how many times it will take for him to get used to Richie’s sudden appearance in his personal space.

He can only hope that this is the last time, but he isn’t that naive.

“What do you want?” Eddie asks wearily because he has absolutely no desire to play these games right now, no matter what Richie wants out of this. He is secretly proud of himself that he doesn’t react as stupidly as he did the last time when he could hardly put two words together as soon as Richie had looked at him.

Grinning, Richie crosses his arms over his chest. 

“A lot of things, actually, '' he tilts his head and looks Eddie over, which Eddie tries to ignore, but still clings more tightly to the textbook in his hands and freezes for a moment, feeling something viscous crawling under his skin, right down to the tips of his fingers. “I just don't think you can give them to me.”

The dirty hint surely embedded in those words doesn't fly over Eddie’s head, and he tries, although in vain, to scoff to hide the blush that has already tainted his cheeks. Slamming the locker, he puts his backpack over his shoulder and intends to turn around and walk away, just leave Richie without an answer that he does not deserve; this is what should have done all the previous times. Only Richie’s fingers hook under the strap of his backpack and pull him back, and he doesn't even move away from the lockers like it’s nothing, like Eddie can be manhandled and thrown around like a rag doll.

Almost losing his balance, for a moment Eddie forgets how to breathe when his back meets the cool lockers, and Richie pulls away from the wall with such carelessness, like all this is a burden to him and he is wasting his precious time scolding a little child. Eddie doesn’t even have time to open his mouth to complain about being treated that way, because Richie crowds him against the lockers, his eyes sparkling with void never leaving Eddie’s face.

“I don't even get a simple 'hello', fine, but ignoring my questions and turning your back on me? Your mom taught you better than that, Eds.”

The mocking tone in Richie's voice breaks through his facade of indifference, and Eddie tries to push him away, wants to put as much distance between them as possible, but Richie catches his hand and pins it to the lockers, effortlessly wrapping his long fingers around Eddie’s small wrist. And it hurts, the hold Richie has on him, probably leaving bruises on his delicate skin that has always been easy to paint in every shade of crimson and purple; since before Eddie can even remember his legs were littered with bruises from the slightest hits, his mother fussing over them with a dozen ointments in her shaking hands. But Eddie bites his lip to keep the pathetic whimper in and not give Richie the satisfaction.

Because Richie is enjoying this. Eddie knows it, remembers how before Richie would hug him too tightly until his ribs crunched or tickle him until Eddie’s hysterical laughter was tainted with discomfort bordering on sharp pain. And Eddie was afraid at such moments, in the very depths of his soul, when pleas to stop and vain attempts to break free only ignited Richie, that he would actually hurt him.

Back then he still believed that Richie just needed time to bounce back and get it together. Eddie was ready to endure all his outbursts if it meant that he would get his best friend back. But hiding the bruises blooming like forget-me-nots on his ribs and wrists from his mother and the Losers got more and more complicated as Eddie continued to make excuses for each one of them.

The look in those blue eyes still boring into him changes, Eddie doesn’t understand how and to what, because they are still so dark, but the mockery burning in them is replaced by something sparkling and just as dangerous.

Eddie wants to scream when Richie brings his other hand to his thigh, brushing softly over the delicate skin with his fingertips, lingering dangerously close to the hem of Eddie’s shorts. He wants to shove Richie’s hand away, he really does, but for some reason can’t make himself do so, can’t even move a single muscle. 

His limbs feel like jello, body flowing down the lockers and on the floor of the empty hallway. And Eddie’s so scared of the reaction Richie’s close proximity is having on him that he can only press his body further against the locker and away from Richie’s. Not only doesn’t it help, but actually makes it worse, because Richie presses himself harder against Eddie, until he’s trapped between the locker and the heat of Richie’s body, his knees one second away from giving out under him.

“Don't… Do not fucking touch me,” Eddie whispers, barely holding back the urge to squeeze his eyes shut at how pathetic and wobbly his voice sounds.

Richie doesn’t say anything, though, just presses his palm against the skin of Eddie’s thigh covered with treacherous goosebumps. It covers almost the entire front of his thigh, and this shouldn’t affect Eddie so much, shouldn’t spark something frightening in him that Eddie has never felt before and can’t explain, can’t get under control.

Richie’s enraptured gaze is trained on where he is currently tracing Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie barely suppresses the trembling in his whole body. He unconsciously spreads his thighs wider when Richie leans in until his lips are nearly pressed to Eddie’s neck, and he can feel them brushing against his throat as Richie breathes the words into his sensitive skin.

“You’ve always been so soft, not like the other boys and even girls, Eds. You've only gotten prettier over the years, don't you think I’ve noticed, like everyone else in this fucking school? I’m sure even Keane is salivating at the thought of inviting you for a medical _check-up_.”

Richie's vile, _dirty_ words and the way his fingers glide delicately down Eddie's thigh throw Eddie off balance, and his eyes begin to burn while embarrassment sets fire to his cheeks and every nerve in his body. Because if Richie doesn't stop touching him, he doesn't know what he will do.

“Richie, s-stop it.”

“When did you turn into B-B-Bill?”

Fingers dig harshly into his thigh, and Eddie flinches at the cruel sound of Richie's voice, at how his dark eyes burn with anger, and how these words get stuck in his throat.

“Please stop. We're in the middle of the school hallway,” he begs shakingly, allowing himself to naively hope that it’s going to work, but deep down he knows that Richie’s never minded audience.

“So what? Didn't seem like PDA mattered to you that much when Denbrough had his hands all over you mere minutes ago.”

It takes Eddie a moment for the words to sink in, and when they do, only Richie's hands, one on his wrist and the other on his hip, keep him from falling down on his weakened knees.

Was Richie _following_ him?

The thought brings a sparkling chill across his skin, and Eddie prays that it doesn’t show on his face. He wills the foggy bliss of Richie being so close and his syrupy voice coating his insides away just as Richie finally tears his eyes away from where his hand is still touching Eddie and looks into his eyes.

Edie can only assume what he looks like right now, with trembling lips and a cornered look in his eyes, like helpless prey driven into a corner with no escape. He can’t tie the thoughts still in his head together, can’t even move, even if he begs his body to obey. But Richie’s closeness, his sugary voice enveloping Eddie like molasses, leaving imprints on Eddie’s soft skin push him to the edge.

“You… Were you spying on me?” Eddie asks in a whisper, unable to find his voice.

“Yeah, if you call studying in the library and suddenly being interrupted by you two lovebirds chatting up after you said that the reason you talked to him was because you were forced to spying.'' 

His voice is so casual like he’s talking about the weather and not about _spying_ on Eddie and then following him to... What? Back him up against the wall and voice his dissatisfaction about who Eddie talks to? Paralyze him, turn _off_ his entire body with his hands that have always affected him so inexplicably that it scared Eddie just as badly as the thoughts that always ran through his head right after?

“I never said that! Stop putting words in my mouth!” Eddie tries to snap back, but all the firmness in his voice fades next to how he doesn't even try to break free from Richie's grip, allowing all this to be done to him like this is his place.

That thought sends a violent shiver through his disobedient body, and he immediately regrets his choice of words, thinking that Richie will make his usual disgusting joke. Or even worse, that he will piss Richie off, wake up something in him that he won't be able to put back to sleep.

However, it seems like Richie doesn’t care about what he said, like he wasn’t even _listening._

“What would your mother think if she found out just how easily you lie? I doubt she'd be proud, Eddie bear.”

The “Eddie bear” hits him harder than he thought it would, and Richie _has_ to know how close to home he just hit, right on the raw nerve that has been haunting Eddie for years, all his life. It’s always been Richie’s favorite topic, his mom, and he always managed to get the reaction that he wanted out of Eddie, drawing all his irritated, angered attention to himself.

Now, looking at how Richie's eyes shimmer with anticipating amusement, this anger gives Eddie strength.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re the one to talk!”

A part of Eddie, deeply hidden in the farthest corners of his mind, begs him to just shut the hell up until Richie leaves him alone, because he will surely get bored without any reaction from Eddie, not getting what he so longs for. But Richie’s always known how to get a rise out of him.

Shaking his head, Richie tuts.

“Don’t turn this around on me, Eds,” he says gently, and this sudden tenderness in his voice that came out of nowhere is so fucking confusing it hurts his head. As soon as Eddie dares to think that he cracked Richie, got to the roots of what’s going on in his head, Richie changes so abruptly like he’s no longer touching Eddie, pinning his trembling body to the wall, his hold on Eddie’s wrist and his fingers caressing Eddie’s thigh igniting _something_ under his flushed skin.

Tears well up in the corners of Eddie’s eyes as Richie’s grip on his wrist tightens, and Eddie holds back a painful whimper and wants to turn away, but Richie grabs his chin and forces him to look him in the eyes.

“I have never lied to you, not once,” he says seriously, his voice suddenly changing from sweet to intense, oblivious to the way Eddie hisses under the fingers gripping his chin. “While everyone was bathing you in deceit and sweet, meaningless lies, I was the only one to ever tell you the truth. It just didn’t fit into your perfect little world, Eddie, so you convinced yourself that I was lying. That I am still nothing more than a lying asshole who wants to ruin your life. It’s just so much easier to blame me for everything, isn’t it?”

“I never blamed you for anything,” Eddie hisses, and he hates that his voice sounds tearful and wet in the back of his throat. “But what you are saying is not the truth, Richie. You _are_ a lying asshole, and I can’t see any reason why you would suddenly appear in my life if not to ruin it. You’d fucking admit to that if you were half as truthful as you claim to fucking be.”

The sparks in Richie’s eyes go out before he tightens his grip on Eddie’s chin, lifting it even higher and ripping an embarrassing gasp from Eddie’s throat. Richie leans down to him, pressing his mouth right up against Eddie’s ear, and he can feel Richie’s teeth against his flesh when he opens his mouth to growl into Eddie’s ear.

But no matter what Richie was going to say, forcing his weakened knees to finally buckle through the sweet veil that’s covered his mind along with the way Richie is holding him right now, knowing how he can hurt him, do anything as if he knows that Eddie won’t be able to resist and fight back, he is interrupted by the sound of a door opening on the other end of the hallway.

The unexpected distraction sends a flash of panic through Eddie's numb body, letting him finally regain control of himself, and he pushes Richie away, able to breathe again, and feels a surge of strange, muffled _disappointment_ when he succeeds and Richie nearly loses his balance before taking a few steps back.

For a moment, something vaguely similar to a sneer flashes in Richie’s eyes, irritated, cruel and _dangerous_. Only there is not a single emotion on Richie's face, like it’s nothing more than a carnival mask, mocking Eddie, sending a shiver of numbing horror and something else down to his toes; something dazzling, melting Eddie’s skin under the gaze that one can’t help but drown in.

Before Eddie has time to understand what is happening and shake off the haze from his fuzzy mind, he hears someone's firm voice, and a moment later he is practically being dragged by the hand somewhere. When Eddie finally comes to his senses, he notices that they are in the principal's office.

“Well, who will explain to me what happened?” The middle-aged woman sitting at her desk asks, interlocking her fingers and staring at him and Richie.

Just remembering about him, Eddie turns his head jerkily and notices that Richie’s sprawled out in the chair with an almost _bored_ expression on his face, and fuck, they are in the principal's office, they were caught by a teacher, what did it even _look_ like…

“I was just leaving a classroom, and the next thing I see is Mr. Kaspbrak pushing Mr. Tozier in the hallway,” the teacher who caught them, having entered at the most inopportune moment, says from behind Eddie.

Eddie restrains the urge to snort and roll his eyes because this is completely not true. It was Richie who invaded his personal space, pinned him to the lockers and literally _felt him up_ , and Eddie _let_ him until they were interrupted and he finally got a grip of his sanity.

“I didn't-” he begins indignantly, drawing the headmistress’ attention to himself, who clearly did not expect such a daring tone from him. Eddie stops and takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, even though his skin still feels too tight under the ghostly touch of Richie’s hands that still lingers on his body. “It was Richie who started it, Mrs. Robinson.”

Richie, who’s sitting next to him, doesn't even bat an eyelid at his words, which frustrates Eddie even more. Why doesn’t he even try to defend himself, painting Eddie to be the guilty one, as Eddie expected, and just sits there like all of this doesn’t concern him?

Sighing heavily, the principal leans forward on the table. “Not only are you walking around the school during class, but also trying to put the blame on someone else?” She asks wearily, like she’s talking to a petulant child who was caught red-handed, and fuck, if it doesn’t make Eddie even angrier.

“I had a free period,” he insists, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, but it seems to be useless because the teacher behind him clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“And this gives you the right to roam around the school while others have classes?”

Eddie doesn't even turn to look at him, staring at Mrs. Robinson, who is watching him carefully. Richie still hasn’t said a word, hasn’t even pretended to be interested in the conversation, and Eddie feels like he’s in court a second away from an unearned punishment because he’s _not_ fucking _guilty._

“No, it doesn’t, but I was just going to grab something from my locker when suddenly Richie came up to me and began saying all sorts of things, and-” Eddie explains himself, feeling his trembling palms folded on his knees beginning to sweat.

With a quick glance at Richie, the headmistress tilts her head at him. 

“What sorts of things?”

 _You’ve always been so soft,_ rushes through his head, and Eddie can't hide the blush that appears on his cheeks and looks down, missing the way the corner of Richie’s lips turns up in a slight grin while he’s looking at the picture hanging on the wall behind the headmistress.

“I thought so.” With a sigh, Mrs. Robinson writes something down on paper before handing it to the teacher and turns to Richie. “What about you, Mr. Tozier? Care to share your side of the story?”

Finally straightening up in his chair, Richie looks at the headmistress sitting behind her desk.

“I just asked Eddie if he’d seen the coach because I needed to talk to him about something,” Richie shrugs. “And then he just shoved me out of nowhere and told me to leave him alone.”

Shocked indignation appears on Eddie's face, and he can hardly believe what he’s hearing and what the fuck Richie is talking about, but Mrs. Robinson interrupts Eddie before he can open his mouth and accuse Richie of shamelessly lying. “Well, then I will answer your question. The coach has a class right now, you can find him on the field,” she says and nods at the door with a small smile on her lips. “You can go, Mr. Tozier. Just don’t wander around during school hours.”

Rising from his chair without paying any attention to Eddie, who is watching him with his mouth almost hanging open, Richie takes his backpack and sends an _apologetic_ smile the principal's way.

“Thank you, Mrs. Robinson. Sorry to have bothered you, have a nice day.”

 _Sorry to have bothered you, have a nice day?_ Eddie just can't believe what he's hearing, can't find a single word as Richie leaves the office and Mrs. Robinson watches him go before turning back to Eddie.

“Eddie, I honestly did not expect this from you. You are such an excellent, well-behaved student, where did this unreasonable aggression come from, especially at school?” She asks softly. The sad, even disappointed look in her eyes is making Eddie so uncomfortable, and he wants to lock up, or rather go back in time to stop himself from pushing Richie away so that he won’t get accused of _unreasonable aggression at school._

“I promise that’s not what happened at all. It wasn’t me who started it, Mrs. Robinson, please,” he pleads desperately, feeling his eyes starting to burn again. His hands are shaking in his lap, and Eddie can’t explain to her what really happened, what exactly Richie said to him; how he touched Eddie as if he _owned_ him, because she definitely won’t believe him.

Besides, it seems like Mrs. Robinson has already made up her mind.

Writing something down on a form from one of the folders on her desk, she looks through it several times before handing it to Eddie. He takes it with trembling fingers, knowing by the woman's sad smile that he won’t like whatever that is written there.

“You’ll have to stay after class this week and help clean up the library. I hope that will teach you a lesson that such behavior is not acceptable on the school grounds,” the principal says and, noticing his startled expression, sighs heavily. “I hope this is the first _and_ the last time, otherwise we'll have to inform your mother.”

Shaking his head instantly, Eddie grabs the note tighter, feeling his throat treacherously constrict with fear and resentment.

“It won't happen again,” he assures, and the headmistress nods tightly. “Goodbye.”

Blood rushes in his ears, and when the principal's office door closes behind him, Eddie almost faints because it feels like he hasn’t taken a single breath since the moment Richie touched him up until now. His hands are still shaking, and Eddie shoves the paper that Mrs. Robinson gave him into his backpack when something catches his eye. His wrist is enveloped by a dark mark with deep shades of burgundy already dancing on its edges, and, as if in a daze, Eddie brings his hand closer to his face, noticing fingerprints wrapped like a cuff around his thin wrist.

His mouth goes dry when a memory bursts before his eyes; Richie's hands on his body, squeezing his wrist, leaving marks, gently caressing the bare skin of Eddie’s thigh like he has the right to do so, wants Eddie to melt in his hands like a candle that touched the scorching flame for the first time.

Casual friendliness, replaced by dark, frightening insolence hidden in every dizzying word, forcing your knees to buckle and fingers to go numb, and nonchalant indifference, in the very end... Change after change, one more unpredictable than the other, like by a snap of fingers, and Eddie can’t keep up with it, losing his balance and holding back the urge to scream and demand answers to the questions that are tearing him apart. Like he accidentally misses a step as he’s walking down the stairs in pitch-black darkness, every fucking time.

Every fucking time he thinks that it can't get any more confusing, any _worse_ , Richie still surprises him like a con man surprises a naive girl at the town fair looking for a bunny that disappeared in his hat, just like the money from her pockets will moments later.

And Richie's eyes, his breath on Eddie's neck, the way his fingers left marks that will be there on his skin for days... When Eddie pushed him away, it was as if he surged to the surface from the frightening, mesmerizing depths of the ocean that splashed in those eyes, escaped from the predatory claws scraping against the fence that Eddie built around himself with a sign _"caution, do not approach"_ hanging off of it.

He curses his body for not listening to him when his mind was screaming, kicking and begging to get away, while Eddie himself eagerly welcomed every touch, cutting off the voice in his head and giving under the sweet haze that clouded Eddie’s head every time Richie got close to him instead. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes from this feeling of absolute powerlessness when Eddie thinks about the fact it’s the first time in all his life that he was taken to the principal's office and was punished even though he did absolutely nothing and wasn’t an offender but a victim. And fuck if that thought doesn’t only make it worse.

Why is Richie doing this to him, why, why, _why,_ the question desperately going off in his head like a fire alarm, and Eddie closes his eyes and takes a trembling breath, trying to pull himself together and not cry from frustration and confusion, things that he finds himself feeling more and more often lately.

The bell suddenly rings above his head, and the hallway begins to fill with loud conversations, and footsteps, and laughter. Eddie tells himself to calm down because the day has not yet come to an end and he has two more classes ahead of him that he has to be present in, his head free of the only thought that's left there — _why?_

***

The school is almost empty by the time Eddie walks into the library, having found out in advance what his punishment will be from a librarian who has left him and promised to come back later to check on the progress.

It wasn't very easy to hide the detention from Sonia. Eddie told her when he came home that day that next Monday he would have to stay late at school because of student counseling, and she studied her son with narrowed eyes for a long moment before brushing him off and turning her attention back to the TV screen. Eddie doesn't know if she really believed him, but he didn't want to risk it and reminded her this morning that he would be late. Now he only has to spend an hour putting books in the right order in the library, and then he can forget about it like it was no more than a bad dream.

Leaving his backpack on one of the chairs, Eddie examines the boxes full of new books and the empty shelves around him and sighs heavily, cursing himself for the umpteenth time that he’s gotten himself into this and couldn’t prevent it. While Richie is fucking lying in his room, unpunished, and is probably thinking about how he will mess with Eddie next time. And if there _is_ a next time, Eddie will definitely tell him everything he’s wanted to say and _thank_ him for this _amazing_ Monday night, which he could’ve spent on more significant things. He won’t fall apart, won’t swallow down his words like he’s fucking speechless next to Richie, and God, what an absurd thought.

There is absolutely nothing tempting about an empty, poorly lit library, but at least no one will bother him here, so Eddie guesses everything has its perks. However, before he can unload even half of the first box, the library door swings open, revealing an obviously furious James.

Already knowing how to behave in his presence, Eddie returns his attention to the boxes, because it doesn’t concern him what James is doing here. He lowers his gaze to the book in his hands and, briefly examining the cover, heads to the other end of the shelf, where the “T” section is. That’s why Eddie doesn’t notice how the frowning expression on James's face changes to a pleased one; like one of a child who finally got the lollipop that he had wanted for so long.

“Look who we have here,” James says, putting his hands in his pockets, and stops on the other side of the shelf. “The next fucking hour of detention just got so much better.”

 _That_ catches Eddie's attention, and he freezes next to one of the boxes, feeling his heart sink. He was paired with James, and, in theory, this is the first detention for him too, because more than once Eddie's heard him brag about his amazing academic performance.

What could he have done to attract the attention of the principal, who has always had a soft spot for the football team that made eyes at her and bathed her in flattering compliments, meanwhile mocking her in the locker rooms behind her back?

Jumping onto an empty table, James leans against the wooden surface and watches him with a sly grin. He will probably just sit there in silence with that obnoxious expression on his face, let Eddie serve his detention and leave him alone, but it sounds too good to be true. Even Eddie’s naivety has its limits.

“Just do what you came here for,” he says, avoiding James’ gaze that is currently burning through his back.

James’s grin only grows and he shakes his head.

“No, I don't think so.”

Eddie has no doubt that James will leave all the work to him. Maybe he will even throw a couple of familiar phrases that he has the audacity to call _flattery_ here and there, but that's it. Yet Eddie still flinches in surprise when he hears words that he did not expect at all.

“What are you even doing here?” James asks, tilting his head like he’s actually interested, which half the girls of this school probably would have liked, but definitely not Eddie, who has no desire to discuss why and under what circumstances he ended up in detention. “You’ve always been such an obedient student. Practically textbook definition of a good boy.”

His voice is sugary-sweet, with a hint of effortless lightness, like he can’t be bothered and can get away with anything. Eddie is trying his best not to let the disgust he is feeling right now show on his face, but he can’t do anything about the way his whole body tenses and locks up.

“It's none of your business,” Eddie snaps, hoping it will be enough to shut James up, but he knows better.

Jumping off the table, the guy grabs the first book he finds from the table and unimpressively looks it over before placing it in the wrong section. Eddie bites his tongue to stop himself from snapping because he knows that it won’t lead to anything good.

“You don’t think we’ll clean all this shit up in total silence, do you?” James asks, fake-pouting. “Come on, princess, talk to me. I’m sure we can find something we have in common and can talk about.”

Suppressing the urge to huff, Eddie feels discomfort coursing through his veins with every word and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool shelf before continuing to arrange the books like he didn’t hear anything. James is just bored, obviously, but that doesn't mean he can pick at Eddie like he isn’t supposed to help him with those four huge boxes of textbooks. 

Eddie doubts he can handle the rest of the detention if it goes like this; he knows how quickly James can lose his temper when he doesn't get what he wants. Most of the school might be under the impression that James and his company are golden boys with promising, bright futures, but Eddie isn’t blind. He’s heard whispers about how he, Tyler and a couple of other guys like to corner their classmates just because and take their bad mood out on them. And Eddie has no doubts that the first detention in James’ life definitely did not cause the warmest, most joyful emotions in him. He saw the extremely displeased expression on the guy's face when he came through the door, because Eddie himself feels the exact same way.

Out of the two, James has always been the most dangerous. Tyler liked to brag, maybe even let his hands roam sometimes, boasting of something disgusting which was probably not true, but James... If what Eddie’s heard about him is true, then one wrong word, something that doesn’t sit right with James for whatever reason, and he’s done.

As if reading his thoughts, James walks around the shelf and stops next to Eddie, watching how he swaps books to put them in alphabetical order, secretly hoping that discomfort and incipient anxiety aren’t noticeable in his taut movements. 

Trying to leave as much distance between them as possible, Eddie comes back to the nearest table, begging whoever hears him for James not to follow him.

“Baby, this whole ‘impregnable fortress’ vibe is getting old,” James says with forced tiredness, pushing off the shelf and coming closer, and it seems that Eddie’s pleas were in vain. “What do they say? It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

Suddenly a hand rests on the table next to his hip. Eddie flinches and wants to pull away, dropping the book back into the box, but James pins him in place with both hands, forcing Eddie to press harder into the table. Numbing cold runs through his body when Eddie feels a hot breath on his neck, and a violent shiver creeps over his skin as his mind screams at him to push, hit, kick, _anything_ just so James gets out of his personal space.

“Don't be shy, sweetheart, I’m not going to tell anyone,” James whispers, one of his hands touching Eddie’s waist. When he feels Eddie trying to slip away from his touch, James digs his fingers into his skin right through the clothes, and Eddie swallows down a painful cry.

His heart is pounding in his ears, and words, pleas to stop, and even wobbly attempts to call for help dry up in Eddie’s constricting throat. They are completely alone in this school wing, and through a veil of paralyzing horror Eddie realizes that he will only make things worse if he resists or tries to fight back.

His survival instinct, however, finally kicks in when James' lips ghost over his ear, and with all the strength he can find in himself, driven by panic and adrenaline, Eddie stomps on James’ foot and for a moment mistakenly thinks that he’s escaped, wants to get the fuck out of here without looking back, but a second later he’s roughly bent over the table, his face pressed into wooden surface and forearm twisted behind his back.

“I wanted to be gentle, but you obviously don’t appreciate it, so you’ll get what you deserve,” James hisses, and the sudden rage in his voice, which just a moment ago was oozing with sweet flattery, and the way he twisted Eddie's forearm make tears burn at the corners of his eyes. “It's about time someone put you in your place. Always walk around like you’re better than all of us. Well, it's time to show you where you belong.”

Eddie wants to beg that this is not true, wants to fucking _apologize_ just to get out of James’ hands that are now sliding down his body, but he can’t breathe, his arm burning from the strong grip, and can’t even move. James is bigger, taller, _stronger,_ and physically he doesn't have the slightest chance.

“Please, s-stop,” Eddie begs in a trembling, wobbly whisper, but James doesn’t listen to him.

“Don't kick if you don’t want it to hurt,” he warns coldly before finally letting go of his twisted arm and grabbing his thighs. “One wrong move and you’ll immediately regret it.”

Exhaling quiveringly, Eddie tries to calm the hysteria filling him up like an ice-cold wave. His body is shaking like a leaf, and he gasps when James's fingers dig harder into his cheeks and spread them apart, sending another shiver of horror down his tense back. He chokes on the tears flowing down his pale cheeks and tries to find his breath, driving away thoughts of how he must look right now and what James wants from him, although deep down, through panic and denial, Eddie knows the answer as pleas die on his tongue.

After a couple of long moments a sound of ripped clothing echoes throughout the library and Eddie can’t hold back a scream as his shorts get stuck, painfully pressing down on his hips and probably blocking the blood flow, and a hand instantly covers his mouth.

“Not a single fucking sound,” James threatens, hovering over him again, pressing Eddie harder against the table with his weight, and dizzying nausea wraps around Eddie’s throat when he feels James’ boner.

Disgust creeps under his taut skin, and he can't stop his fucking tears and sobs, jerkingly nodding through the palm over his mouth and fingers digging into his hips. Eddie feels faint, his vision blurred by the tears, and he can’t move, can’t do anything but lie there while James roughly rips off the clothes that were stuck below his ass off.

Closing his eyes, he gasps brokenly for air when the palm disappears from his face, and Eddie can only imagine the bruises James has left on his body already. The guy’s hands are now again sliding up his thighs, and feels like he’s going to pass out any second. There is only one thought in his head, while a quiet voice in the back of Eddie’s mind begs him to accept his fate, surrender and let James do whatever he wants, only hoping that he will get away with less if he obeys and keeps quiet, and the last hope for help crumbles in Eddie’s chest as teeth bite down on the inside of his thigh.

Holding back an agonizing cry, he bites down on his own fingers and flinches all over as James pulls back to enjoy the mark he left amid the scattering of his fingerprints on Eddie's skin. His wet, painful sobs drown out James' words, which Eddie can’t hear through the blood roaring in his ears. He tries to pull himself together until the painful shock passes, tries to free himself for the last time when the hands squeezing his hips disappear like a nightmare that dissipated with the first rays of the long-awaited sun.

Trembling and confused, Eddie tries to look around, but the next moment he feels James grabbing his hair and roughly throwing his head back, a sudden gust of stale library air hitting his face wet with tears.

“We're not done yet,” James whispers in his ear and digs his fingers into the skin of Eddie’s thigh probably already littered with marks and bruises one last time before pulling away.

Blinking away the tears, Eddie tries to catch his breath and lifts himself up on trembling hands, and a jolt of dizzying pain shoots through the one that was twisted behind his back at the slightest movement. The shorts stuck on his knees restrict movement when Eddie finally realizes what interrupted James and tries to back away from the door where someone's voice is coming from.

He zips up his fly with trembling fingers and suppresses another wave of tears when he feels saliva on the inside of his thighs before hastily wiping his face in the hopes that it will help him clean up his appearance when the librarian walks through the door. Smiling and saying goodbye to someone in the hallway, she finally turns and frowns when she sees Eddie hastily rummaging through one of the piles of books.

“Where is the second one... McClain, weren't you supposed to serve the detention together?” The librarian asks, stepping closer and glancing around, noticing that only half of the work has been done, even though it's been over half an hour since Eddie came here.

Running the back of his still shaking hand over his wet cheeks, Eddie shakes his head and shrugs, hoping that the woman will not notice or comment on his state. All he wants right now is to run without looking back until he locks himself away in his room forever and ever.

The librarian shakes her head disapprovingly, muttering something about what she’s going say to the principal about the missed detention, and tells him to wrap it up, but Eddie doesn’t hear her, arranging the fucking books as in a trance, doubting that he is doing it in the correct order at all. He can’t concentrate, his breathing has not yet returned to normal, and for the first time in a very, very long time, Eddie wants his inhaler that he has long forgotten in one of the drawers of his bedside table. His skin still feels too tight, so hot and uncomfortable that he wants to rip it off, if only it would stop fucking _choking_ him, and Eddie forces himself to calm down, finish serving his detention and get away as far as possible.

James disappeared as if he hadn’t even been there at all, and Eddie is grateful for it until the librarian lets him go, satisfied with the result, and he has to walk out of the school onto an almost empty street, already immersed in the twilight of the almost set sun. Wrapping himself in a sweatshirt, which Eddie took with him in the morning after being lectured by his mother about the dangers of a cool breeze in the late evening, he hurriedly walks home, looking around jerkingly and shuddering every time a car passes by. Instead of the usual fifteen minutes, the walk takes about ten, and color returns to his paled cheeks from the coolness of the wind.

Derry at night has always frightened him, especially after Eddie found out what could actually lurk in its most hidden corners, and he almost runs into the house on trembling legs, immediately locking the door and trying to catch his breath.

Sonia calls him from the living room, offering dinner, but just the thought of food brings nausea back, so Eddie thanks her in a blurred daze, like he’s not even here, and tries to behave as naturally as possible under her frowning, calculating gaze. Fortunately, his mother doesn’t notice Eddie’s reddened eyes and the trembling in his fingers clinging to the sleeves of his sweatshirt and says goodnight, allowing him to go to his room.

Relief knocks him down when the door finally slams behind Eddie, and he’s so drained that he allows his knees to give out, sliding down the door onto the floor, and brings his knees to his chest, burying his face there.

Something on the inner side of his thigh catches his tear-stained gaze, and Eddie traces the already darkened teeth marks and immediately pulls his hand away like he was burned, because they are really there, it _really_ happened, and he can’t put two words together, falling over the edge, and hysteria covers him whole.

Covering his mouth with his palm to drown out the cries, Eddie wants to get to his feet and open the window, because it's fucking _stifling_ in here and he can’t fucking _breathe_ ; he wants to lock himself in the bathroom and scrub his body raw under the ice-cold shower until he stops feeling James's hands on his marked, _ruined_ skin just to get rid of these memories that are stuck like a lump in his throat. But he can’t move a single muscle, his body shaking in soundless hysteria, finally realizing what happened.

What James told him, how he grabbed Eddie and pushed him against the table as if it was the easiest thing in the world, how he took advantage of their detention in the library because he was fucking _bored_... Feverishly shaking his head in a pathetic attempt to get rid of these thoughts, Eddie takes a shaking, wet breath through his tears and bites his lips until he tastes copper just to make it fucking stop.

He doesn't want to think about it, he doesn't want to remember what he escaped only because he got lucky, but it’s pointless, and the last words that James said to him before disappearing, saving his face, are spinning in his head like a broken record.

 _We're not done yet_ , an endless echo in his mind, and Eddie sobs, settling right on the floor and pressing his quivering knees tighter against his shuddering chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me on [ tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/aintguiltyy) ;)


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